


Bread and Butter

by coolbyrne



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F, Rizzoli & Isles |, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 22:07:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3463790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane and Maura uncover more than they anticipated when they investigate the death of a hoarder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Bread and Butter

AUTHOR: coolbyrne

RATING: Teen, with changes to be announced in future chapters

SUMMARY: Jane and Maura uncover more than they anticipated when they investigate the death of a hoarder.

DISCLAIMER: I normally don’t put these, because it’s pretty obvious I don’t own the characters, nor am I making money from them. However, this fic includes the names of real people who were involved in the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League, and as such, I must stress this is a work of fiction. No offense is intended and no claim is to be assumed.

A/N: This 12-chapter, 30,000+ words story is my 21st in the R&I fandom, and I have to say, it’s my favourite. I loved doing the research in the AAGPBL (All-American Girls Baseball League) and I loved weaving the truth in with the fiction. This is also the first story where I set out to put the characters together in a romantic and sexual sense. So there was a nice challenge in running a very important adult story parallel to a plausible case file. I think it rings very true to the characters, and I think my original characters are different enough that they stand alone as their own personalities. The dialogue is enjoyable and story flows quite well. And in the end, I think there’s a bit of sympathy for the victim that stays with the reader after the story is finished. I hope you’ll feel the same. Thanks to RomanMachine, my beta reader and my chess piece. (She knows what it means, and as the story progresses, so will you.)

…..

“Here she comes.” Frost jerked his chin at the vehicle that was slowly coming to a stop.

Jane looked over her shoulder. “Okay, so we all know the ground rules: the clock starts the second she walks in the door.”

“All bets are off if she doesn’t go in,” Korsak reminded everyone.

With a smirk and a swagger, Jane started towards the car. “Oh, she’ll go in.” She smiled at the attending officer and lifted the police tape for the approaching medical examiner.

“Sorry,” the blonde apologized, “there was a small detour my GPS didn’t seem to take into account.”

“No problem,” the detective replied. “We haven’t been here long.”

“No one’s inside?”

“We’ve already taken a look.” Seeing Maura’s inquisitive expression, Jane coyly said, “As far as we could see.”

The duo walked up to the house. “I don’t understand.”

Jane stopped at the base of the stairs and touched Maura’s arm. “Listen, I’m not sure you really want to go in there.”

“What do you mean?” She practically scoffed at the suggestion. “I can’t imagine there’s anything in there I haven’t seen in one capacity or another.”

“I gotta warn you – it’s pretty bad.”

Maura patted the detective’s hand. “Thank you for your concern. But really, I think I’ll be fine.” With that, she ascended the steps and crossed the threshold.

Three detectives and two officers started their respective timers.

“Oh my!” came Maura’s voice from the house, her tenor slightly higher than normal. Another “Oh my!” quickly followed, leaving nothing behind but a long stretch of silence. With as much grace as she could muster, the blonde stepped out of the house and pressed a hand to her chest. She inhaled deeply, collecting herself, and glanced back into the house before looking for answers from the group that stood off to the side.

“Who had less than 30 seconds?” Jane called out as she tapped her watch. “Oh, right, that would be me. Gentlemen?” She held out her hand as four officers of the law begrudgingly gave her their money.

“It’s not fair,” Frost grumbled. “You know her way better than we do.”

She kissed the cash and squeezed it into her pocket. “Please. How long did we last in there?”

Frost shrugged, conceding the point.

“Et tu, Sergeant Korsak?” Maura asked, having composed herself enough to speak again.

“Sorry, Dr. Isles,” the older man said. “If it means anything, I had you going in and not coming out.”

Frost snorted. “Yeah, because she’d get avalanched by all the junk!”

Maura looked at the trio, the two uniformed cops having had the sense to slink away. “So you knew what it was like in there?”

“I told you we already had a look,” Jane reminded her. “I just didn’t say we only had a look at the entrance… then turned around and left.”

“How am I going to process that crime scene?” Maura wondered aloud.

“CSRU have sent two brave souls in to take a boatload of pictures,” Korsak told her.

“There was a small window in the back for one to squeeze through,” Jane added. “They’re going to get as much as they can in terms of trace evidence, but…”

“How will they be able to tell?” Frost finished for her. “The victim was clearly a hoarder.”

Maura’s face blanched. “Please tell me it’s not Prader-Willi Syndrome.”

“It’s not,” Korsak assured her. “I mean, I haven’t seen the victim, but the hoarding doesn’t seem to indicate it.” Seeing Jane’s raised eyebrow, he shrugged. “What? I watch a lot of TLC.”

“It’s a genetic disorder that often manifests itself in the hoarding of food,” Maura explained to Jane and Frost.

“Nah,” Frost said. “Whatever you smelled in there wasn’t food.” He brought the back of his hand up to his nose. “I’m about to make myself sick.”

Maura glanced around the area, partly in an effort to forget what she saw inside. “The landscaping is immaculate. Such a dichotomy to what’s inside.”

Jane hummed. “If there’s anything the job’s taught me, it’s never trust a first impression. How many times have we found a monster under the bed?”

“Has anyone seen the victim?” the blonde asked.

“Maura, at this point, we’re not even sure where the victim is,” Jane admitted. “The only reason we’re here at all is because the smell of decomp is even worse than all of that-” she pointed to the house, “put together. The neighbour called it in to the borough police and they verified the smell.”

“Passed it on to Homicide without even checking, lazy bastards,” Frost complained.

Korsak chuckled. “Scared bastards, more like it.”

“Speaking of neighbours,” Jane said, “Frost, why don’t you get Spearing’s notes and revisit the neighbour who called it in? Me and Maura will go inside.”

Frost beamed at being let off the hook. “And that’s why you’re the best partner ever, partner.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a disposable mask. “As a token of my appreciation, take this. You might want to double up.”

“I have Tyvek suits in my car for all of us,” Maura informed them, her tone brooking no argument.

Korsak shook his head. “I’m not going in there.” Holding up his hands, he said, “I’ve seen too many of those shows. Too many flattened cats. I can’t take it.” Jane made a face but Maura touched his arm in sympathy. “I’ll keep an eye on the CSRU guys in the back. Make sure they haven’t gotten swallowed up by the hoard.”

“C’mon, Mr. Clean,” Jane turned to the medical examiner. “Let’s get suited up.”

Maura pressed a button on her keyfob and opened the trunk. “How much of it did you see?” she asked as she reached in for the suits.

“Just slightly more than you did,” Jane replied. “And by ‘slightly more’ I mean ‘holy crap, that’s a lot of crap’.”

“Did you know the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders has only just recently accepted hoarding as a mental illness?” Maura slipped into the oversized outfit. “One of the first references to hoarding was in Dante’s ‘The Inferno’, written in the 14th century.” She pushed some disposable gloves into a pocket. “Approximately 2 to 5 percent of Americans suffer from a hoarding disorder. One of the most famous cases involved the Collyer brothers, who died within 3 weeks of each other in 1947. They were crushed by their own possessions, estimated to be over 140 tons in total. Is this your hypothesis for the victim?”

Jane reached for her hand. “Breathe, Maura. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Think yoga.” She did the motions herself, and the second time, Maura dutifully followed along. “You’re going to be fine. You’re going to put on your boots and we’re going to go inside together.”

Maura nodded. “Okay. Okay.” Another long breath was exhaled before she reached into the trunk and pulled out her boots. “Where are yours?”

Jane pointed down to her feet. “I’m wearing them.”

Maura’s eyes followed the brunette’s fingers. Sure enough, rather than the standard Rizzoli black boots, the detective’s feet were brandishing knee-high wellies. “How did I not notice you wearing those?”

“Uh, because mine aren’t canary yellow?”

Withholding her comment, Maura used Jane’s shoulder to keep her steady as she changed footwear. A CSRU member came out of the house and walked towards them.

“Detective Rizzoli,” he said with a nod. “Dr. Isles. We did what we could in there.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Preserving the scene is basically out of the question; if you so much as think too hard, things fall over. But we blocked off the victim as much as we could. Took some blood samples and a shitload of pictures. We held off on bagging any kind of trace evidence, only because we didn’t really know what might be considered important. I mean, I gotta be honest with you, Dr. Isles, the whole place could be important, or it might be nothing at all.” Maura nodded her understanding and he continued, “If you need anything, Fitz is still in there. He’ll collect whatever you need.”

“Can you send me the photos?” Jane asked.

“Honestly, Detective, I’ll drop you off a stick. I’m not kidding when I say we took a shitload. Again, we’ve got no idea what’s important and what’s just junk.”

Now it was Jane’s turn to nod. “Thanks, Jensen.” The technician walked away and she looked at Maura. “Ready?”

With a grimace, she slipped a polypropylene mask over her mouth and nose and replied, “As I’ll ever be.”

…..

Jane volunteered to go in first, and Maura smiled in gratitude. Even with boots, the terrain was precarious, and she held on tightly to the brunette’s hand. If Jensen had made any kind of path from the body to the door, it had long disappeared under minute avalanches of clothing and books and plastic bags.

“Where is the body?”

Jane paused to help Maura up a particularly hazardous pile. “In the kitchen.” Realizing the whereabouts of the kitchen needed some clarification, she said, “Over Debris Mountain and around Garbage Corner.”

“I’ve seen five copies of the same book, Jane,” was all Maura could think to say.

“Do you realize I’ve just hit my head on the ceiling? The ceiling??”

When Maura glanced up, Jane saw her look of distress and gave her hand a quick squeeze.

“It’s… it’s very high,” Maura said.

Jane realized her indignant question had made Maura even more aware of their current predicament. “We’re almost there. You’re doing great.”

“Did you know most mountain climbers will tell you it’s not the ascension that’s difficult – it’s coming down that often causes the most problems?”

Jane didn’t question the change of subject, well-versed in the pathologist’s habit of injecting arcane information at any time. But, as her feet slowly gave way under her, she realized it wasn’t just a random fact.

“Shiiiit!”

Her windmilling surfer pose only slowed her descent enough that when she fell at the bottom, it was fairly soft. Then Maura landed on top of her.

“Oof!” Jane grunted.

“Sorry!” Maura apologized, but made no effort to move. The fall had forced her to brace her hands on either side of Jane’s head, but their lower bodies were pressed tightly together in the heap. Their eyes met, and each tried to read the other’s expression.

Jane was glad the mask covered her mouth. It prevented the blonde from seeing her lick her bottom lip. As was her habit, she went for the humour. “Is this your way of making a move, Dr. Isles?”

With a smirk Jane couldn’t see, Maura replied, “If I were to make a move on you, Detective, you’d know.”

Jane wondered how there was any room here for that particular elephant. But it didn’t stop her from asking, “Oh, really?”

“Jane,” she whispered softly, her voice barely audible through the mask.

“Yeah?”

“Jane, I think there’s a dead mouse under my hand.”

With a speed that would have won a gold medal in an Olympic event called “Moving Your Ass at the Thought of a Dead Mouse Near Your Head”, Jane bolted to her feet and pulled Maura up with her in one complete motion.

“Oh!” Maura shrieked with a laugh. “Musophobic?”

“If ‘mouse-o-phobic’ means ‘not wanting to be laying beside a dead mouse’, then yes. Musophobic.” She brushed down her suit even though she knew the effort was in vain.

“At least you had the hood on.”

Jane shuddered at the thought of her hair touching anything around her. “Let’s go, Dr. Livingston,” she said as she reached for the blonde’s hand once more.

Gratefully taking it, she followed close behind. “You mean Henry Stanley,” she corrected the detective. “Dr. Livingston is the man he was sent to find in Africa. Their meeting has been popularly remembered by the line, ‘Dr. Livingston, I presume’, though there has been no actual written documentation to support this greeting.”

Jane kicked away some debris in an effort to make a path. She quickly gave up on the idea. “I don’t know about that line, but I think ‘The horror, the horror’ is pretty apt here.”

Maura stopped. “Explain.”

“Marlon Brando,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Apocalypse Now. Guy goes crazy in the jungle. Another guy is sent out to find him. Same idea.”

“I thought that was based on Joseph Conrad’s ‘Heart of Darkness’?”

Jane tilted her head in appreciation. “You watched the ‘Making Of’ when I wasn’t there!”

Shrugging feebly, Maura conceded, “There may have been a day when I exhausted all my DVR’d shows…”

“Yes!” she made a victorious fist. She helped Maura over one more pile before turning the corner into what was called the kitchen, but bore little resemblance of one. “Hey, Fitz,” she greeted the CSRU man.

“Rizzo,” he greeted back, ignoring the glare at his use of the name. He acknowledged Maura with a welcoming tilt of the head. “You talk to Jensen?”

Jane nodded. “Said you guys took, and I quote, ‘a shitload’ of photos.”

He held out his hands from his small perch that at one point may have been the sink. “You can see the problems we had.”

“Difficult to determine what’s important when it could all be important,” Maura agreed.

“Or none of it,” he said. “We did maintain the area around the body as much as we could, as you can see. White female. Hard to tell the age considering the state of decomp, but 80 if she was a day.”

Maura looked to the left and saw the body in a semi-fetal position against a chair. Kneeling beside it, she asked, “This is how you found her?”

“Yep. Collected blood samples and some hair and fibers, but I gotta be honest- they were more token collections than anything. I mean, we could be here for days collecting samples.”

Jane looked down at the doctor. “Heart attack? Hit her head? The hoard finally turned on her?” Seeing Maura’s raised eyebrow, she waved her hands. “I know, I know.  You don’t guess.”

“I know this has become part of our ‘schtick’,” she air-quoted, “but in this case, I wouldn’t even want to venture I guess. If I did.”

With her hands on her hips, Jane looked around. “Yeah, in this case, I don’t blame you.”

“What do you want us to do, Dr. Isles?” Fitz asked.

She sighed and stood. “What do you recommend we do in terms of removing the body, Mr. Fitzgerald?”

“Ooh, ‘Mr. Fitzgerald’,” Jane cooed.

He ignored her jibe and replied, “Through the window is probably the most feasible. I can get one of the guys in here with an angle grinder and enlarge the space. We should be able to transfer the body without too much trouble then.”

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Maura concurred. “I’ll sign off on the transport once she’s been properly tagged.”

“All right,” he said. “I’ll meet you two outside.”

They watched him wiggle out the kitchen window, then they looked at each other.

“We could do this one of two ways,” Maura stated. “We could go out the way we came in, or we could go out the window.”

Jane gave it some thought and put the image into words. “Is there a way to climb out a window without me falling on my ass?”

“Probably not,” Maura admitted. “But I can’t guarantee we won’t fall on a mouse going the other way either.”

The doctor barely got to the word ‘mouse’ before the detective was out the window.

…..

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Maura said as the two brushed themselves off in the cool afternoon air.

“Right. Except for the fact that you somehow landed on me again.”

“Somehow.” Maura’s face was one of perfect innocence.

Jane eyed her suspiciously as she stepped out of her Tyvek suit. Changing the subject, she said, “I get collecting things. I mean, who doesn’t have a junk drawer?” She rolled her eyes. “Except you. But what I don’t get is the garbage. How hard is it to throw out garbage?”

“Do you remember the state of your apartment in the months after you were shot?”

She guiltily shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “That was different,” she protested weakly. “I fully intended on…” She saw Maura’s look. “Getting my mother to clean it up?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Jane ignored the veiled accusation. “Go sign off on the body. I know it’s hard to believe after all that, but I’m hungry. We’ll swing by Chalupacabra and pick up those chiles don’t gottas you like.”

“Chiles en nogada,” Maura corrected. “And did you know the restaurant’s name is a play on ‘chalupa’ and ‘chupacabra’? It’s a Mexican dish amalgamated with a Mexican cryptid.”

“Other well-known cryptids are the Yeti, the Loch Ness Monster, and Bigfoot.”

Maura’s eyes widened in delight, then narrowed. “I’ve told you this before, haven’t I?”

“Every time we go there.”

She coughed bashfully. “Yes, well. Those sound lovely. The chiles en nogadas. My treat.”

“Oh, no,” Jane waved away the offer. Pulling the folded bills out of her pocket, she held up her winnings between two fingers and said, “I just took candy from four babies.”

…..


	2. Chapter 2

The morgue was quiet and cool as Maura meticulously went about her business. There were days where the silence would be filled with genuine questions or Rizzoli humour, but today, Jane simply stood and watched. She often joked that she had seen so many autopsies performed she could do one herself, but the reality was, she admired the quiet grace Maura seemed to infuse into the process. The note-taking, the finger-printing, the examination, the x-rays, the samples were all performed with the precision of a well-choreographed ballet. It was Maura’s ability to do her job so well that made it easier for Jane to do hers.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Maura noted between stitches.

Jane patted her stomach. “We’re having a discussion about that last nogada.”

“I see,” the blonde mused. “I don’t suppose I should remind you of my warning?”

“If you really mean ‘I told you so’, then no, don’t tell me.”

She smiled and relented. “Okay, let me tell you this – my first indication for cause of death is blunt force trauma to the head.” She held up an x-ray. “See that indentation?”

“How could I not?” Jane whistled. “That is some dent. You think it could have been caused by something falling on her?”

Maura shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. The height required for something to fall and make this kind of impression would have to be higher than the height of the room. I also found this.”

Jane peered closer at the small evidence bag. “It’s… a sliver?”

“A piece of what appears to be wood, yes. I’ll have it sent to the lab for a more thorough examination.”

“And what does that indentation look like, Maura?”

“Cylindrical impact point. Wood trace evidence. A baseball bat.”

“Is that a guess?”

“I prefer ‘conjecture’,” Maura countered.

“Right. Conjecture.” Jane let that slide and started pacing. “Okay, so blunt force trauma with a baseball bat. Do you remember seeing anything at the scene?”

“I saw many things at the scene, Jane.”

She stopped and glowered at the blonde. “I mean a baseball bat, Maura. I know you’re probably trying to erase the entire experience from your big brain, but did you see a baseball bat?”

Maura looked off to the right and closed her eyes. “No. My initial response would be ‘no’.”

“I didn’t either,” Jane said. “So the killer either took it with them, or they tossed it over a pile.”

“It will take the CSRU days to go through that house.”

Jane pulled out her phone. “But if I give them something specific to look for…” She fired off a quick text message. “Fitz is a good guy, and he might appreciate the treasure hunt.”

“So what now?”

“Frost is doing what Frost does. We found some mail so we’ve got a name. Hopefully we can use it to figure out the rest of her life.” She looked down at the body on the table. “And maybe figure out who would want to kill her.”

…..

“Mildred Rose Wilson, just turned 94,” Frost said. Jane perched on the side of his desk, prompting him to continue. “No immediate family, so we’re waiting to get some hits on secondary relatives. Paid her bills on time, had some modest retirement packages, but according to the neighbours, she never left the house.”

Jane shrugged. “We could barely get in the house. How long was she at that address?”

“According to the Registry of Deeds, she’s lived there since 1986.”

“Imagine almost 30 years of stuff…”

Frost shook his head and Jane returned to her desk. “How do you let it get like that? Don’t get me wrong – I’m not the neatest guy in the world, but I can only take it so long, you know? I mean, pick up the damn garbage, woman!”

Jane chuckled. “And you wonder why you’re single.” The two shared a smile. “I get where you’re coming from, though. At what point do you look around and say to yourself, ‘Holy crap, this is out of control’? Do you even know what that is anymore?” She subconsciously started to collect all the stray pens and put them in a nearby cup. Paperwork got straightened and empty coffee cups were tossed into the garbage while she asked, “Anything else on the victim?”

His mouth twitched in amusement, but he didn’t comment on her actions. Instead, he said, “The neighbours didn’t have much interaction with her. They only called it in because the smell got so bad.”

“Maura found a splinter in the vic’s head. We gotta wait for the lab results, but that, coupled with the shape of the wound, we’re thinking it’s a baseball bat. I asked Fitz to have a look. Hopefully he’ll find something.”

Frost leaned back in his chair. “What I don’t get is, why this lady? Did it look like she had anything in that house that was worth killing her for?”

“Maybe she had a safe? Somewhere?”

“Did you see anything?”

Jane smirked. “In the words of Dr. Maura Isles, ‘I saw many things’. But a safe? No.” She saw where he was going with his question. “So the killer would have to take it out of the house.”

“And that wasn’t happening.”

“And that wasn’t happening,” she agreed. “You’re right, Frost. I don’t get it, either. What’s the motive to kill a 94-year old woman who was knee-deep in garbage and never left her house?”

“Maybe CSRU will have something over the next few days,” he said.

“Maybe I’ll ask them to find a needle while they’re at it.”

Frost smiled. “Well, I might have better luck once the phone company sends me the records. Hopefully there’ll be one person on that list who knew her personally.”

“Think we’ll get the warrant before Monday?”

He glanced at the clock on his computer. “Oh yeah,” he said facetiously. “Ten minutes before 5 on a Friday? Why don’t you shove off early? If a miracle happens, I’ll text you.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” she replied as she pushed away from her desk. Slipping on her suit jacket, she looked at her partner. “You’ll let me know, right?”

“Get going,” he beamed.

“Thanks, Frost.”

…..

“I knew it.” Jane put the take out bag on the kitchen island and looked at the very industrious doctor. Latex gloves reached up to her elbows and even from behind, it was clear she had some sort of mask and goggles protecting her face. Maura turned and Jane jumped at the sight. “Hello, Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

The blonde propped the goggles on top of her head and pulled the mask down with one hand, while holding a toothbrush in the other. “You’re early.”

The corner of Jane’s mouth curved up. “I might have to start randomly showing up early. Who knows what I might discover behind the cool façade of Dr. Maura Isles?”

She dropped the toothbrush and gloves into the garbage. “One can never be too careful with grout.”

“No, one can’t,” Jane mock-agreed. “It’s a battle that never ends.”

Maura playfully snapped the disposable mask at her before it joined the toothbrush and gloves. “If anything, I expected you to be late. I thought today’s events would have encouraged you to do some extra cleaning around your place.”

“My place?” Jane asked. “My place is immaculate. I have a very capable and manic French maid who cleans on a whim.” She innocently looked around before meeting Maura’s eyes. “Oh, you mean my condo?”

“Very funny,” Maura retorted. “I am neither manic nor French.”

“I like the fact you didn’t have a problem with me calling your house ‘my place’.”

“Taking into account how much time you spend here, I fully expect to see your mail in the box one day.” She saw the guilty look creep across Jane’s face and quickly amended, “And I will be absolutely fine when that day comes.”

“Nice save.” The detective made a face. “You’d tell me if I was here too much, right?”

“Jane,” she said, “you’re not here enough.” Before the brunette could reply, Maura turned to retrieve some plates. “Can you get the cutlery?”

With Maura’s back turned, the moment was gone. Filing that away with all of the other things she planned on bringing up one day, Jane said, “It’s Chinese, Maura. They include the cutlery.” She held up the wooden chopsticks, much to Maura’s dismay.

“If we must,” she conceded, and reached into a drawer to pull out two pairs of porcelain sticks and their rests. She carefully placed them on the granite counter and presented them with a flourish.

Jane ripped the plastic wrap with her teeth and twisted the cheap wooden chopsticks with a twirl. “Voilà!”

“In this case, I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘Kàn!’”

“In this case, I believe the word I’m looking for is ‘eat’.” She gathered the plates and the bag. “You’re in charge of the drinks, so long as mine’s beer,” she said as she made her way to the couch. “What wonderfully inappropriate documentary do you have ready to go?”

Placing coasters on the coffee table, Maura put down two wine glasses and a bottle of beer. When she saw Jane’s raised eyebrow, she shrugged. “I know I can only encourage you to try the wine if I bring the beer.”

Jane reached for the wine. “Well played, Dr. Isles.” Maura settled in beside her and turned on the TV. Much to the detective’s surprise, it was a baseball game. “We’re not watching this, are we?”

Maura tilted her head. “Did you not want to watch the Red Sox?”

With a look of sheer amusement, Jane replied, “Me, not want to watch the Red Sox? You do know me, right?” Maura chuckled. “I just… it’s your turn to choose. I thought you’d want to watch ‘The Sleep Patterns of the Amazonian Speckled Fruit Fly’ or something.”

“I recorded that one for a later date,” Maura winked. She dished out a helping from each container onto their plates. “I want to be able to watch baseball without interrupting you every third pitch to ask what’s happening. I can only do that by watching more games.”

Jane sat back and took in her surroundings. “Take out, beer, baseball, and an amazing French maid,” she mused, pretending to ignore Maura’s glare. “A girl could get used to this.”

“We’ve done this every Friday for the last three years. I’d say a girl already got used to it.”

“Well, maybe we should set a date,” Jane said.

With an innocent gaze, the blonde deadpanned, “Show me the ring and I’ll consider it.” Jane, always one to get the last word in, was speechless. Maura chuckled again. “The game’s started, Jane.”

…..

The seventh inning rolled around and Maura got up to stretch.

“You know you’re not obligated to actually get up and stretch,” Jane told her.

Arms raised, Maura said, “Did you know the origin of the seventh inning stretch lacks documented proof, though most people give credit to Harry White who spoke of it as far back as 1869?”

Jane took a pull on her second beer of the night. “Did you know you’re trying to tell the reason you watch baseball a fact about baseball?”

Conceding the point, Maura shrugged. “You didn’t tell me – were you able to learn anything about the victim?”

“Right. Frost followed up on the name. Mildred Wilson. Didn’t get much more than an age and how long she’d been living at the address. We’re waiting for the warrant to come through for her cell phone.” Jane stretched from the couch and sighed at the satisfying crack of her spine.

Maura grimaced. “Your back wouldn’t do that if you did more yoga.” Jane’s response was an eye roll that Maura chose to ignore. “You didn’t locate a next of kin?”

“No, not yet. No family records came up under the name which is why we’re stuck waiting for the warrant.” The blonde became unusually silent and Jane gently pulled her down to the couch. Softly tapping Maura’s forehead, she asked, “What’s going on up there?”

“Oh, nothing,” Maura replied. Jane was clearly unconvinced. “It’s silly, really. It’s just… sad, don’t you think? At her age, she should have any number of family members who care about her. A spouse, a sibling, a relative. Instead, she was an old woman trapped in her own home, who died alone, and is missed by no one. That could have been me.”

“What??”

“The way my life was going, that could very well have been me,” she repeated. “Had our paths not crossed, I most likely would have had only my adoptive parents in my life. I wouldn’t have known about Paddy Doyle and I certainly wouldn’t have found out about Hope or Cailin. And statistically, my parents will most likely die before I do.” She looked away and saw her tortoise ambling through the kitchen. “Did you know it’s one reason I got Bass? He can live to be over 100 years old. I thought if I have him, I would never be alone.”

Jane took Maura’s face in her hands. “Look at me.” The blonde dutifully did as she was told. “Now I want you to listen. You will never be alone, understand? As long as there is a breath in my body, there will always be someone to talk to. I might even listen sometimes, but they say hearing is the first thing to go.” The hint of a smile pulled at the corners of Maura’s mouth and Jane flashed a smile of her own. “Besides, if it wasn’t me, you still would have met someone who found you just as wonderful and amazing and dorky as I do. And you would have loved them just as much as you love me. Maybe even more.”

Maura shook her head and gave a small chuckle. “Not possible.”

Jane pretended to give this some thought before replying, “No, you’re right. Not possible.” She sat back and pulled the blonde into an embrace. “C’mon. We can still catch the 8th inning.”

…..


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: The All-American Girls Professional Baseball League was a real thing. Millie-Rose Ziegler is fictional.

…..

She shuffled into the bullpen, one eye barely open. Even the presence of her partner didn’t garner any more attention than, “You’re here early.”

“Happy Monday,” Frost greeted her from the copier machine. When the response was nothing more than an unintelligible grunt, he smiled. Tilting his head towards her desk, he added, “I wasn’t the only one here early.”

She followed his gaze and nearly tripped over her feet getting to the tall coffee that sat primly in the middle of her desk. Beside the cup was a triple chocolate brownie embossed with the label of a decadent bakery, and leaning against that was a folded note. Jane didn’t know which one she wanted to open first. “Maura?” she asked Frost.

He chuckled as he collected some papers from the tray. “Who else would go out of their way to get you your favourite dessert at 8 in the morning?”

“Is that when she was here?”

“Somewhere around there,” he replied. “I was in just before eight. The warrant came in on Saturday, believe it or not. Phillips gave me a call, but I figured I wasn’t gonna get anyone at the phone company until today anyway.” She nodded at his logic. “I went to the little boys’ room and did some business before gettin’ down to business, if you know what I mean-”

“Ew, Frost. I’m about to eat a brownie.”

“Yeah,” he laughed, “like anything I say is gonna stop you. Anyway, I came back and that was there.”

She slowly unwrapped the dessert, stretching out the moment. “You didn’t see her?”

“Nah. Dr. Isles is like some kinda ninja. How she manages to be stealthy in 4-inch heels, I’ll never know.”

The partners shared a laugh and Jane savoured the first bite of the brownie. “Omgd,” she moaned.

“You two need some privacy?”

She caught a wayward crumb in the palm of her hand. “Why? You gonna sit there and watch the whole time? Perv.” With a wink, she stood and took the coffee and note to the microwave. Sitting the drink inside, she set the timer and leaned against the counter.

While my gratitude for your friendship is limitless, the dessert should be appreciated in moderation.

She unclipped the phone from her hip and speed-dialled a familiar number.

“Good morning,” Maura said.

“What was that for?”

“The greeting? Isn’t it standard?”

“You know what I mean,” Jane said. “The coffee and the brownie.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to fatten me up for the zombie apocalypse?”

Maura’s laughter rolled down the line. “First, if I wanted to ‘fatten you up’, I would steadily feed you an increased diet of carbohydrates. So if I start buying you french fries, be suspicious. Second, who would protect me in this hypothetical apocalypse if you were out of shape?”

“Hmmm.” This answer seemed to please Jane.

“In light of our conversation last night, I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you.”

“Aw, Maura,” Jane smiled. “Does this mean I’ll get a brownie every day?”

“No,” she answered. “I think for the sake of your health, I’ll have to find other ways.”

For the second time in two days, there was a blatant suggestiveness to Maura’s comment that made Jane pause. And again, to no one’s bigger surprise than her own, Jane stepped up and inched her toe over the line. Lowering her voice, she said, “Oh, really?”

The silence stretched so long between them that Jane started second-guessing herself. She was just about to throw out a humourous retraction when Maura said, “I could buy you flowers, for instance.”

With an internal sigh of relief, Jane replied, “Flowers are nice.”

“Perhaps a token that represents your value in my life.”

“Tokens are nice.”

Maura laughed again and it warmed Jane. “Maybe I could take you to dinner. We could go somewhere that doesn’t require cutlery. Maybe share a dessert. Some candles and Led Zeppelin playing quietly in the background.” Now it was Jane’s turn to laugh. “Then perhaps after dinner, if you’re feeling up to it- Good morning, Susie.” Maura’s voice immediately changed from sultry to professional. “I’ll have those results for you shortly, Detective.”

Jane heard the line disconnect and pulled the phone away from her ear. She stared at the screen as if she could divine a hint, some clue about what had just happened. She never lied to herself; she knew they had danced this particular waltz for a long time: prolonged looks, touches that lingered, laughter that co-mingled as they lay in bed together. Strictly platonic, they told themselves, though they both knew better. But this conversation, this was different. This wasn’t inching over the line. This was a massive leap onto the other side.

_What am I doing?_

_What is she doing?_

_What are we doing?_

“I think it’s hot.”

Her head jerked up. “What?”

Frost nudged his chin towards the microwave. “Your coffee. I heard it beep.”

“Oh, right,” she said and took out the cup.

“You want to know what I found?” he asked. “Or,” he added with a smirk, “are you gonna gaze at your phone all day?”

“Whatever,” she said. The phone returned to its home on her hip and she walked over to his desk. “Dazzle me.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “I faxed the warrant to the phone company and they emailed me the records list. Not surprising, she didn’t have a lot of calls in a month, going out or coming in. Delivery guy, banking by phone. But this one came up more than a handful of times.” He tapped the monitor. “Matt Lancaster. Sophomore at Amherst.”

Jane nodded with approval. “UMass. Nice.”

“On a baseball scholarship.”

“Double-nice. Have you called him yet?”

“Nah,” he replied with a smile. “I was waiting for you to thank Dr. Isles for the brownie.”

“How did you know I was on the phone with Maura?” Seeing his mouth open to reply, she held out a hand. “Never mind.” She pulled out her phone. “What’s his number?”

Frost called it out as Jane dialled, and after the fourth ring, someone picked up.

“Hello?”

“Is this Matt Lancaster?” she asked.

“Yeah. Who wants to know?”

She bit down her instinct to throw back a retort. What she was about to tell him might change his life forever. “I’m Detective Jane Rizzoli of the Boston Police Department,” she said. “There’s no easy way to ask but, did you know a Mildred Wilson?”

“Oh, God,” was the only reply.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“What… I don’t understand.”

“I know this is very difficult, but I wonder if you could come in and identify her. We can’t seem to find anyone else.”

His laugh was hollow. “I’m not surprised. No one in my family wanted anything to do with her.”

“So you’re related?”

“She was my great-aunt.” The line was quiet for a moment before he whispered again, “Oh, God.”

“Could you-”

“Yeah, of course,” he said. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I dunno. I guess at her age, and the way she was living…” He trailed off at the end, as if uncertain how much to reveal.

Jane nodded sympathetically, even though he couldn’t see the gesture. “We’ve seen the house. It must have been very hard.”

Rather than elaborate on his thoughts, he sighed. “I’m at school right now, but I don’t have classes until later this afternoon. It’ll take me about 2 hours to get there.”

“We really appreciate it,” she said. “The officer at the front desk will help you out when you get here.” She waited for the young man to end the call before slipping the phone back into its holder. “I hate those calls,” she told Frost.

He nodded. “I take it he’s coming in?”

“Right from Amherst.” She glanced at her watch. “Should get here sometime before lunch.”

“What do you want to do in the meantime?”

For the first time that morning, Jane spotted an envelope on her desk, addressed simply ‘From CSRU’. Tearing open the top, she dropped a USB stick into her hand. At Frost’s questioning look, she explained, “Fitz told me he’d make a copy of the photos they took at the scene.”

“Looks like your two hours are filled,” Frost smiled. “I suppose I could try and do a deeper check on Matt Lancaster.”

“Good idea. He said she was his great-aunt, and that no one else in the family wanted anything to do with her. See how much family we’re talking about. Who knows? We might get lucky.”

…..

“There has to be a better word than ‘shitload’.” Jane leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. “I will never get through all these photos.”

“Well, I’ve got a partial family tree,” Frost offered. Standing, he walked over to the whiteboard and wrote down ‘Mildred Wilson’. “She didn’t have children of her own,” he began, “but I worked backwards from Matt Lancaster and found at least 2 nephews and 3 nieces, Lancaster’s mother being one. One nephew died in a plane crash six years ago. His son was on the plane with him.” Jane grimaced. “The other nephew doesn’t seem to have kids. The other 2 nieces have 2 kids each. Trying to go back from there, see if I can track down Mildred’s siblings.”

“Only her brother is alive,” a voice spoke out.

Jane and Frost turned to the door. Quickly, Jane stood and moved to greet their visitor. “Matt Lancaster?” When he meekly nodded, she reached out and touched his shoulder. “I’m very sorry.”

He slowly approached the board. “His name is Wallace. Her brother, I mean.” Frost added the name.  “He’s at the Pine Grove Retirement Home, if that helps. Sorry. I’m babbling.”

Jane gently guided him towards her desk and pulled over a chair. “You have nothing to apologize for. This must be quite a shock.”

“Can I see her?”

“I’ll arrange it.” She made eye contact with Frost; he unclipped his phone and walked away from the pair. “When’s the last time you saw Mrs. Wilson?”

Matt fidgeted with the zipper of his coat. “About two weeks ago. I used to see her more, but school started back up and I couldn’t make it into Boston as much as I wanted. She was so excited about me going to UMass,” he remembered wistfully. “A baseball scholarship. She was over the fuckin’ moon!” He jerked his head up. “Did you find the journals?”

Jane couldn’t hide her confusion. “Sorry?”

“Her journals. She would read from them every time I visited. I think it was the only time she was really happy.”

Jane tried to put the question delicately. “Any idea where we might find these journals?”

His smile was a rueful one. “I know how it must have looked when you first walked in,” he admitted. “But I never saw that. I just wanted to get to know her. The journals are in a small box under the kitchen sink.”

“I’ll get someone to have a look,” she promised.

“I just realized I didn’t ask what happened. I guess I assumed it was something to do with the house. It wasn’t safe. I knew that.”

“We’re investigating all possibilities,” was all Jane was willing to offer.

Her vagueness didn’t go unnoticed. “What- you’re thinking she might have been murdered?”

“As I said, we’re investigating all possibilities.”

He leaned back and shook his head. “All she had were her stories and even then, no one cared enough to listen.”

“You did.”

A ghost of a smile appeared. “Yeah. My fuckin’ family had no idea. God, the stories! Ted Williams, Mel Parnell, Birdie Tebbetts…”

Jane tilted her head. “Red Sox players.”

“Yeah,” his head bobbed with joy. A slow look of realization spread across his face. “You don’t know…oh, wow. You don’t know. She was Millie-Rose Zeigler. She played for the South Bend Blue Sox.”

“The women’s professional team?” Jane asked in surprise.

“You know it?” he beamed.

She gave him a warm smile. “Some might accuse me of loving baseball too much.”

He shook his head. “Not possible.”

Pieces were starting to fall into place. “So that’s why she was so happy you made it to UMass on a baseball scholarship.”

“I loved baseball before I knew about her,” he said. “I loved it even more once I got to know her. Getting the scholarship was icing on the cake for both of us.”

“I bet. Listen, I have to ask – the medical examiner hasn’t pinned down a time of death yet, but can you tell me your whereabouts over the last few days?”

“I can give you my class itinerary if you want it.” He looked over to the board and sighed. “The irony is, I had a tournament last weekend. I might have been playing baseball when she died.”

…..

“He ID’d the body,” Jane said as she slumped down into her chair.

Frost frowned in sympathy. “That’s never fun.”

“No, no it isn’t,” she agreed. Resting her chin in her hand, she looked across their joined desks. “What have you been doing?”

He turned the monitor around so she could see. “Now that I’ve got a maiden name, I can do a more thorough search. She was really something back in the day.”

She smiled. “You follow the All-American Girls’ Professional Baseball League, Frost?”

He pulled the monitor back. “Hell no. But from what I’ve read so far, she was like the Ted Williams of the women’s game.”

The familiar staccato of heels interrupted the pair. “Hello, detectives,” Maura greeted.

“Dr. Isles,” Frost dipped his head.

“Dr. Isles,” Jane parroted.

Shaking her head, Maura handed over a thin file. “The splinter embedded in the wound was indeed wood – Northern White Ash to be exact.”

“Most popular brand of wood for baseball bats,” Jane added.

“Yes. Did you know out of all the Northern White Ash harvested every year, 10% is set aside for professional baseball bats? They’ve experimented with other wood, but it seems this one has remained the bat of choice.”

“Maple was the thing back when Barry Bonds was making his run at the record.” Frost shook his head. “Everybody thought it was the bat.”

“Something else you might find interesting – the lab found traces of ethylene glycol monobutyl ether on the wood.” The blank responses encouraged her to clarify. “It’s a solvent often used in the processing of cleaning products and ink.”

Jane let out a one-note laugh. “I’m pretty certain we can rule out cleaning products.”

“I wouldn’t rule out anything,” Maura warned, but gave a small shrug as if to concede the point.

“So what next?” Frost asked his partner.

The brunette stood and stretched. “Well, do a bit more digging on Millie-Rose Ziegler. See if there’s anyone out there who would have a reason to kill her. She’s gotta have something someone thought was valuable.”

“I’m on it. What are you gonna do?”

“Me and Dr. Isles are heading back to the crime scene.”

Maura’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Yeah,” Jane replied, slipping on her blazer. “Her nephew said she kept journals. There might be something in them.”

The doctor backed away slowly. “No, no. I am not going back into that house.”

Jane playfully ignored the blonde’s distress. “C’mon, Maura. It’ll be like immersion therapy. That works, right, Frost?”

“Oh yeah,” he agreed facetiously. “Like a charm.”

She took Maura’s arm and guided her to the elevator. “It’ll be fun!”

…..


	4. Chapter 4

…..

“I seriously question your idea of ‘fun’, Detective,” Maura said for the third time.

“I know you mean it to sound judgmental and all, but you might want to work on how you say ‘Detective’. A girl could get the wrong idea,” Jane winked.

Maura tilted her head and frowned in confusion. Seeing the dark eyes peer back, and a slight twitch of the eyebrow, the meaning became clear. A light flush crept up her face. “Oh, I see.” With a light cough, she added, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The statement sounded less like caution and more like a promise, and Maura wasn’t the only one to feel heat stain her cheeks. With a bravado she didn’t know she possessed, Jane replied, “You do that.”

A charged minute passed between them, until Maura finally broke the silence. “Be that as it may, I’m still not going into that house.”

Jane’s laughter filled the car. “It’s okay,” she said. “Matt told me they were under the sink in the kitchen, and the CSRU guys cut open the window, remember?” She pulled some latex gloves from her pocket. “I’ll be in and out in a minute.”

“If you’re not out in five, I’m calling Search & Rescue.”

“What? You wouldn’t come in and rescue me yourself?” She saw the blonde’s look of indecision. “Oh, I see how it is. Fine. See if I ever kill another spider in your house.” She opened the door and stepped out.

“That’s different,” Maura said as she leaned over the driver’s seat. “You don’t suffer from arachnophobia.”

“Arachnid,” Jane bending down to look into the car. “Isn’t that some French word for ‘peanut’?”

“That’s ‘arachide’.”

“Potato, Potahtospider,” she said with a grin. “And you don’t have arachnophobia; you just squeal like a little girl when you see one.” She snapped on the gloves. “Don’t worry about Search & Rescue. I see the guys in the back yard. I’ll be right back.”

“Be careful!” Maura shouted to the retreating detective before pulling out her sanitizer and squirting a generous amount into the palm of her hand.

…..

“You guys here all night?” Jane asked as she greeted Jensen.

“Nah,” he replied. “The neighbours complained about the floodlights, so we packed up around midnight. Came back early this mornin’. You checkin’ to make sure we’re doing our jobs right, or what?”

She jerked her thumb towards the house. “How would I be able to tell?”

He chuckled. “You got that right. I don’t even know if we’re doing our jobs right! So what brings you around?”

“I take it Fitz didn’t find anything.”

“Ah, right, you were lookin’ for a baseball bat.” He shook his head. “Nothin’ yet. Doesn’t mean it’s not there, but…”

“I understand,” she said, waving away his unspoken apology. “Think I can get into the kitchen? Believe it or not, I’m looking for something else, and I know exactly where it is.”

“Yeah, sure, help yourself. Not much left inside, though. As you can see, we’re just tryin’ to make some kind of sense of the contents.”

“Did you clean the cupboards?”

“No,” he shook his head. “We were more concerned about clearing out the area. We were hoping we’d get something on the killer from the contents of the area around the body.”

She looked around the back yard and took stock of the piles of clothing, books, and electronics set aside. A dumpster next to the house was already half full with garbage.

“We got dishes and toys and furniture and enough knick-knacks to give me nightmares for the rest of my life,” Jensen said. “That’s just the kitchen and the hallway. We’ll get the junk guys in later to do the rest of the house. It’s a big place, once you get past it all. You wanna go in around the front or climb through the back?”

There was a small step-ladder propped under the enlarged kitchen window. “Where was that last night?” she said.

“Yeah, I saw you and Doc Isles go ass over tea kettle out the window,” he laughed, ignoring her glare. “You’d think outta the 100s of pictures I took last night, I would’ve thought to get that one!”

Her glower was betrayed by a smirk. “Don’t you have real work to do?”

She didn’t wait for his answer. Instead, she climbed the three short steps and carefully manouvered herself into the kitchen. Jensen wasn’t kidding when he said it was a big place. In the light of day, bereft of garbage and contents, the kitchen was easily three times the size she would have thought. But, nothing could save the damage 30 years of hoarding did to the home. The floor was dark and the deep stain of blood was almost hidden amongst the patches of rotten spots. The walls were caked with dirt and dust and grease, and a smell Jane was sure would never go away lingered like a heavy cloud. She looked around and wondered how it could have gotten so bad.

Setting the thought aside, she pulled open the cupboard under the sink. Sure enough, there it was, just as Matt had said. Amongst the empty bottles of dish soap and SOS pads sat a small wooden box. Carefully taking it out, Jane placed it on the counter and slowly pried the lid open. Thin leather bound books, twelve in all. She gently flipped through the first one on the pile and marvelled at the date in the corner: 1943. Satisfied, she grabbed the box and carefully climbed out the window.

“Whatcha got?” Jensen called out.

“I dunno,” Jane replied as she approached him. “Some journals that may mean something.” She looked around the yard and the culmination of 30 years. “Or nothing at all. Call me if you guys ever find that bat.”

“Will do.”

With the box propped against her hip, Jane made her way back to Maura. “I half-expected to see you waxing the car,” she said as she put the journals in the back seat.

Maura wrinkled her nose. “That smells like aged paper.”

“Very good!” Jane praised. “Musty old paper that was shoved under a sink in the kitchen.”

“You do know damp areas are breeding grounds for insects.”

“Don’t hide your fear of spiders by giving them the wrong name. I know they’re not insects.”

Maura shook her head. “I wasn’t simply referring to spiders.”

“No, but mostly. I already checked; there’s nothing in the box but old journals.”

The blonde narrowed her eyes, as if trying to gauge the veracity of the statement. “I think there’s some element of truth in what you’re saying,” she conceded. “I’ll choose to believe it’s the part about checking it for spiders.”

“See? I knew it was about the spiders!” Jane crowed.

“Just drive, Jane.”

…..

“You didn’t have to take me to the bistro for lunch, you know,” Maura said as they climbed the stairs to the police department.

Jane shrugged. “Think of it as an apology for the spider thing in the car.”

At every stop along the way, Jane had somehow coerced Maura into looking out the passenger window long enough for the detective to lightly tickle the back of her head. She had succeeded four times before the rattled woman had caught her pulling her hand away.

“That was very cruel,” Maura admonished. “And highly unsafe.”

“Why do you think I only did it at the red lights?” She gently nudged the blonde’s shoulder with her own as they entered the building. When she received nothing but a non-committal hum as they waited for the elevator, Jane nudged her again. “C’mon. I ate the kale salad. I ate the quinoa!”

“The quinoa was paired with chocolate and made into a cake.”

Jane’s eyes rolled back in delight. “Yeah! Who would’ve thought quinoa in a chocolate cake?”

The elevator opened and they both got in. Pressing the ‘down’ button, Maura said, “You did buy lunch for Detective Frost and Sergeant Korsak. That was very nice of you.”

“Yes,” Jane agreed. “See? Nice.”

Maura made a show of mentally weighing Jane’s actions against her character. “I suppose you’re forgiven.” The elevator arrived at her destination and she stepped out. “What’s on your agenda for the rest of the day?”

“Feeding the troops.” She held up the bag. “Seeing what Frost got up to while we were gone. Doin’ my ‘gumshoe thing’.”

“And for tonight?”

Jane stuck out her arm when the door began to close. “Heading home. Ordering take out. Having a beer.”

“You know,” Maura said, feigning nonchalantness, “you could do all those things at my place. I mean, if you want. It’s up to you.” She realized she was doing an inordinate amount of gesturing, and clasped her hands firmly in front of her.

“I know,” Jane replied warmly. “I just want to go over those journals. Maybe there’s something in them that will help the investigation.”

Maura nodded. “Okay.”

Jane smiled and let go of the door. It was nearly closed when Maura reached out to stop it again. “Jane, I… our conversation this morning. On the phone. I hope that I didn’t… what I mean is…”

Jane gently touched her arm. “Deep breath.”

The blonde followed the direction and inhaled deeply. “I just wanted to make sure… was that okay?”

The touch became a squeeze. “It was okay, Maura.” She saw the flash of doubt cross her face. “More than okay.”

Maura blinked. Clearly, this wasn’t the answer she was expecting. “Oh. I mean… great!” A dazzling smile lit up her face. “Great.”

Jane gave one final squeeze and a smile of her own. “If I don’t see you later, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“You have to let go of the door so the elevator will work.”

“What? Oh. Good-bye, Jane.”

Jane leaned to the side, following the door as it slowly closed. “I’ll see ya.”

…..

“Hey partner,” she said as she entered the bullpen. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Oooh,” Frost replied. “L’Etoile Bistro? You didn’t get me something with kale, did you?”

“Don’t worry. I took one for the team.” She looked around. “I haven’t seen Korsak today.”

The young man peered into the bag. “He’s on the schedule for the annual physical.”

“Right,” Jane remembered. “Oh, hey, that chocolate cake’s for me.”

“Why do I think you’re lying to me? If I call Dr. Isles, what’s she going to tell me?”

Jane plopped into her chair with a resigned sigh. “Fine! I hope you choke on the quinoa.”

He held a hand over his heart. “You hurt me when you say things like that,” he pouted.

“I see it doesn’t stop you from eating the cake.”

“Hell, no!” he answered. “I don’t care if it is quinoa; you ate it and want more. Means it’s gotta be good.”

“Did you find anything while I was gone, or just a new way to get on my last nerve?”

“Don’t be hatin’,” he said as he took a bite out of the cake. Seeing her look, he shrugged. “I’ll get to the sandwich in a minute. In the meantime…” He walked up to the whiteboard. “Like Matt said, she’s got one living brother. He’s the only one left out of a family of nine.”

“Holy crap.”

Frost shrugged. “This was back at the turn of the century,” he reminded her. “She was the youngest. Seven boys and two girls.”

“But only five were born from that many kids?”

“Only two boys came back from World War II.”

Jane closed her eyes. “Damn.”

“It gets even more tragic. One of the two who came back? He was killed in a convenience store hold-up a year later. Got shot while shielding the clerk.”

“Wow. So by the end of what- 1946? There was only one son and two daughters.”

“Right,” he said. He wrote two names on the board. “So we already know the victim. One brother, Wallace Ziegler. He got married after the war to Ruth Brindle. They had the two sons, one that died in the plane crash with his own kid. And one sister. Alice Ziegler. She married Gerald Preston and had three girls. One of them being Matt’s mother, Cynthia Lancaster. She was the late bloomer in the family; the rest of the great nieces and nephews are almost a decade older than him.”

“And I thought the Rizzoli family tree was complicated.”

He stepped back and looked at his work. “Basically, what we need to know is, there are only a handful of living relatives out of all that: the brother, one nephew, three nieces, and five great-whatevers. So ten. I’m tracking down some of them now.”

“Well, we already know where the brother is,” Jane remarked. “So, no kids. What about her husband?”

“Henry Wilson. They got married right after the war. He passed in 1985.”

“A year before she moved into the house on Tressle Street.” She tapped her chin with a pen. “Maybe that was the catalyst for the hoarding?”

“We’ll ask Korsak when he gets back. He’s the one who watches these shows.”

She smirked. “So out of all these relatives, do any of them live in the Boston area? I mean, anyone close enough to have killed her?”

“Obviously, the brother,” he answered, pointing to the board. “I also found Boston addresses for Matt’s mother Cynthia, and one of her sisters, Julia Kowalski. Mrs. Kowalski lives in Norwood, near the airport. Her son William lists the same address. The rest of the clan live out of state.”

“As a black man, don’t you feel uncomfortable saying the word ‘clan’?”

“Racist,” he said with a smirk of his own. He walked back to his desk and picked up a piece of paper. “Found out a few more things using her maiden name. One, she’s made an annual donation to Cooperstown for over 50 years. Second, and you’re gonna love this, she’s been making payments on a storage unit over on Old Colony Avenue.”

“Oh, God,” Jane groaned. “Please let us solve this case before the warrant clears.”

Frost chuckled. “I talked to the D.A. She’s gonna try and get it by tomorrow.”

She rubbed her eyes. “Let’s come up with a game plan for talking with the family. Why don’t we start with the one who’s least likely to be a suspect, but might have the most information about our victim?”

“The brother.”

…..


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Though Millie-Rose Ziegler is fictional, all names and dates associated with the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League are factual.

…..

“Frost, don’t ever let me get old,” Jane said as the pair walked into the Pine Grove Retirement Home.

“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “It’s gonna be all ‘Pimp My Wheelchair’! We’ll give so many nurses a heart attack, we’ll outlive the staff.”

“Gee, I’d almost think you’ve given this some thought.” They approached the front desk and showed their badges. “Detective Jane Rizzoli. I called earlier about talking with Wallace Ziegler.”

The woman behind the counter glanced at their badges and wrote down the information. “We spoke on the phone, Detective. I’m Gail Dodson.” She stood and extended her hand.

Jane returned the gesture. “Thank you for letting us come on such short notice.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. We’re an open retirement home; the residents and their visitors can come and go as they please. Our only schedule is meals, but everything else is quite independent living. Follow me, I’ll introduce you.”

The detectives dutifully walked behind, taking in the immaculate surroundings. “This is a really nice place,” Jane said. “How much does one of these go for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Gail pressed the elevator button. “Depending on the level of care, a resident can choose to pay anywhere from $2000 to $5000 a month.”

Frost whistled. “I don’t pay $2000 a month for my condo.”

The nurse smiled. “Yes, but do you have 24-hour care, three meals prepared daily, an activity room with a bar, and an indoor swimming pool?”

“Point taken,” he said.

She turned to Jane. “Was that a general question or do you have someone in mind who might be interested?”

Jane snorted and looked at Frost. “Can you imagine Ma here? ‘Janie, they don’t put enough marinara sauce on the meatballs! You’d think with the money I’m payin’, they could afford more marinara sauce!’”

Frost leaned into Jane’s shoulder as he shook with laughter. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or scared at how well you do that.”

Even Gail smiled. “Your mother?”

“Oh, yeah,” she drawled.

“Well, on your way out, take a brochure anyway. We’d be more than happy to discuss any questions or concerns she might have, marinara sauce or otherwise.”

They stepped into the elevator, and it was a short ride to the third floor. Outside Room 308, Gail softly knocked. “Mr. Ziegler, it’s Gail Dobson. You have visitors today.” She looked at the detectives. “He’ll be so surprised. He doesn’t get visitors often.”

The door swung open until it hit the side of a wheelchair. “Hello, Ms. Dobson,” the elderly man said. “Let me push this contraption back so you can come in.”

The three squeezed into the small entranceway, and Gail shifted to introduce the visitors. “Mr. Ziegler, these are Detectives Jane Rizzoli and Barry Frost of the Boston Police Department. They wanted to talk to you about your sister.” Seeing the introductions were properly done, Gail added, “I’ll leave you to it.”

“You’re here to talk about Mildred?” he asked.

“Yes, how did you know?” Jane replied.

The man chuckled. “Alice’s been dead for 20 years. Couldn’t imagine you wanted to talk about her.” He wheeled the chair into the small apartment. “You want something to drink? Some cookies? I’m diabetic so, they’re sugar-free and taste like cardboard.”

Jane smiled. “No, we’re good, thank you.”

“All right. Don’t say I didn’t offer.” He gestured to the couch. “Sit. I am.”

The partners sat and Jane spoke. “I’m afraid I have some bad news about Mildred.”

“Didn’t think you were showing up to present a Publisher’s Clearing House check.”

Frost coughed to cover his laugh. Jane elbowed him. “We found her last night, in her house. We’re labelling it as ‘suspicious death’ until we can clear up a few things.”

He gazed at them under bushy eyebrows. “You’re trying to tell me you think someone killed her?”

“We’re keeping all options open, yes.”

“Which means you think someone killed her.” He clasped the arms of his chair with strong yet trembling hands. “Miss Rizzoli, I’m 96 years old. In the time it takes you to get around to the point, I could be dead. So let’s get there directly.”

“Okay,” she said, admiring his candor. “Looks like she got hit in the head with a bat, but we have no idea who might have wanted to kill her. We haven’t followed up with other family members yet, but I have a feeling they didn’t have much to do with her.”

His laugh was mirthless. “Hell, I’m in a palace compared to Millie and they don’t want anything to do with me!”

“When’s the last time anyone’s come by?” Frost asked.

“He _does_ speak.” Wallace winked at Jane. “They come around for Christmas. The ones in the area, that is. I haven’t seen Doris or her girls for years. I think they’re in California.” He saw Jane’s look of disapproval. “I stopped caring years ago, Miss Rizzoli.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean they should.”

“You’ll have to forgive her, sir,” Frost said. “She comes from a very involved family.”

“And by ‘involved’, he means ‘nosy’.” The three shared a laugh. “When was the last time you saw Mildred?”

“Oh now, that must’ve been sometime before ’97.”

“Why’s that?”

He patted the arms of the chair. “I had the tumour removed from my spine in ’98.”

“And she didn’t come to see you?” Frost asked.

Wallace shook his head. “I’m afraid Millie wasn’t fit to see a lot of people.”

Jane picked up the unspoken words. “We saw the house. Any idea why…”

“Why she let it get the way she did?” he finished. “I think it had a lot to do with the death of her husband in ’85.

“Henry.”

He smiled at Frost. “Hank,” he corrected. “Hated being called ‘Henry’. They got married when he came back from the war. He was the one who pushed her to keep playing ball.” He turned his attention to Jane. “What do you know about baseball, Miss Rizzoli?”

Frost snorted and stood. “Do you think I could make us some coffee? We might be here for a while.”

The older man jerked his head towards the kitchen. “Everything’s on the counter or somewhere I can reach it. Sorry I only have that fake sugar.”

“No problem.”

She watched Frost walk into the kitchen and returned her attention to Wallace. “I know she was part of the women’s professional league.”

“She and Hank met when they were teenagers, but of course, he got called to the war, like the rest of us. They loved baseball almost as much as they loved each other. When the men went off to war, someone got the idea to keep baseball going by starting a women’s league. Millie had a whip of an arm and got chosen by the South Bend Blue Sox out of Indiana after the first tryout. She hated leaving Boston, but she couldn’t turn it down.”

“Massachusetts didn’t have a team?”

“It was all midwest teams,” he explained. “She stuck with them for almost 10 years, 1943 to 1952. The league folded in ‘54. Won two championships,” he added proudly.

“She stayed after Hank came back?”

“He practically insisted. Two creams in mine, Mr. Frost,” he called out when he heard the kettle whistle. “She thought she should settle down and start a family, but he was so proud of her accomplishments, he didn’t want her to give it up. He knew how much she loved baseball.” He held out some coasters for Jane as Frost re-entered the room, strategically carrying three mugs. Wallace nodded his approval. “Probably one reason why they never had kids – she was 32 by the time the league folded. Back then, that was old!” He chuckled at the absurdity.

Silently thanking her partner for the coffee, she said, “We talked to Matt Lancaster, your great-nephew. I get the impression few people in the family knew about Mildred’s past.”

“Once the baseball was gone, she didn’t want to talk about it too much. Went through a real tough time for a while there, those two. Matt,” he repeated. “Oh, Cynthia’s boy. He plays ball. He talked my ear off at Christmas about Millie.”

“He seems to be the only one who had any interest in her,” Jane said.

“I hear he’s on a baseball scholarship.” Jane nodded. “It’s no wonder they probably got on like a house on fire. I’m glad. Seems like a good boy.”

Jane took a sip of her coffee. “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt her? Anything you think she had in her house that was of any value?”

“She once had a collection of baseball memorabilia from her playing time. I wondered if she sold it or donated it during those later years. But even if she kept it, you’ve seen her house. Where would it be and what condition would it be in?” He took a cautious drink of his own coffee. “I think anything of value was all up here, Miss Rizzoli,” he said, tapping his forehead.

“She kept journals,” Jane told him.

His eyes widened. “Really? Well maybe you’ll find your answer in them.”

Jane stood, collected Frost’s mug and rinsed them out in the sink. “We appreciate your time, Mr. Ziegler.”

He met them at the door. “Any time. And please, call me ‘Wally’.”

Jane glanced over at the silent TV. “Afternoon game today. You don’t have it on?”

He leaned back in his chair and laughed. “I hate baseball! The game’s too damn long. I don’t have enough time left on this earth to watch some young upstart take five minutes to throw a damn ball. Give me the Bruins any day. At least I won’t die of old age before the game’s over.”

Frost gently led Jane out the door. “That sound you heard is a heart breaking, Wally. Thanks again for your time.”

…..

“He’s clearly not our suspect,” Frost said on the way back to the car. “We could barely get into that house. No way a guy in a wheelchair can.”

“That and the fact he’s almost 100 years old.”

“That’s ageist,” Frost accused. “You don’t think he could’ve picked up a bat and hit his sister in the head?”

Jane looked at him over the top of the car. “Only if she was on the floor and he dropped it on her. And it weighed 20 pounds.”

They got into the vehicle. “So like I said, clearly not our suspect.”

“Clearly.”

He buckled up. “So what next?”

The motor rumbled to life. “Make the call to the other relatives and set up some meeting times for tomorrow,” she said. “They don’t have to come to the station; we’ll go to them.”

“Make them feel comfortable, like none of them are suspects.”

“You got it.”

“All right. What are you gonna do?”

“Get some takeout, crack open a beer, and read those journals.”

He gave her a sidelong look. “You not heading over to Dr. Isles’?”

She pretended to ignore the question and the implication. “Why do you always call her ‘Dr. Isles’ even when she’s not around? She can’t hear you, you know.”

He shrugged. “It’s a sign of respect. Like she doesn’t call me by my first name.”

“I don’t call you by your first name,” she scoffed, “and but you still call me ‘Jane’.”

“That’s because you’ve just replaced ‘Barry’ with ‘Frost’,” he retorted. “That’s not respect; that’s familiarity.”

“Holy crap, Miss Manners, slow down.”

“And don’t think I don’t see what you did there. You know, you can always say, ‘Barry, it’s none of your business’.”

“Barry, it’s none of your business,” she repeated, then grimaced. “Ew. I can’t call you ‘Barry’.”

He gazed out the window. “It sure was nice of her to bring you that brownie and coffee this morning. Wish I had someone to do that for me.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “So me saying ‘Barry, it’s none of your business’ meant nothing.”

“I’m just saying,” he grinned.

She playfully slapped his chest. “Well, stop saying.”

His grin grew into a big beaming smile.

…..

She unceremoniously kicked off her boots and tossed her coat towards the back of the couch, spectacularly missing the target. Jo looked up at her with judging eyes and Jane sighed. “Has she got you trained, too?” she grumbled, but took the time to straighten the footwear and pick up her clothes. “Don’t tell her I did that, understand?” With a glare at the dog, she dropped the journals on the counter and made her way to the fridge. She rested her head on her forearm when she saw the contents. “Looks like pizza again, Jo. And you definitely better not tell her that!” She speed-dialled her favourite place, grabbed a beer out of the fridge and flopped down on the couch.

“Can you believe it?” she asked the attentive dog. “He didn’t like baseball!” The furry companion barked. “I know! That’s… that’s gotta be unconstitutional or something, right?” Jo barked again, as if answering. “That’s right, you know, don’t you, girl?” Jane leaned over and scratched behind the dog’s ear. Hearing another bark, Jane realized, “Oh, you wanna go for a walk! Why didn’t you say so? Don’t give me that look. Hold on.”

Five minutes later, she came out of the bedroom in tights and a T-shirt. “Well, I can’t take you for a run in a suit, can I? And I gotta get some exercise in before that stupid half-marathon Maura signed us up for.” She slipped the saddle bag over the dog’s head and secured it around the abdomen. “I can’t believe she bought this for you.” Clipping on the leash, she opened the door. “All right, let’s go. But you have to carry everything.”

…..

“Holy crap, Jo, I’m outta shape,” Jane wheezed at the foot of her stairs. Hands on knees, she looked at the dog. “Remind me to find out when my annual is, okay?” After some half-hearted stretches, she let Jo off the leash and led them upstairs. Once inside the apartment, the little dog made a beeline for the water dish. “Hold on,” she said, unclipping the satchel. “Okay, go.” The dog didn’t have to be told twice.

Jane emptied out the pockets and glanced at her phone. She couldn’t help but smile.

_5:35 Was the visit with the brother helpful?_

_5:42 The toxicology report came back. Nothing in her system._

_5:44 Just thought you’d like to know._

_5:58 So…_

_5:59 Are you out running??_

“Hello?”

“I thought I’d give your poor keyboard a break,” Jane said.

“Technically, it’s a touch screen,” Maura corrected.

“If you listen closely, you can hear my eyes rolling back,” Jane quipped. “Sorry I didn’t get your messages. In fact, I was running.”

“From what?”

“Oh. Ha. Ha. Korsak had his annual physical today. Thought I’d better get ready for mine.”

Maura hummed. “So you saw my texts?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Are you writing cause of death due to the head wound?”

“Yes,” the doctor answered. “Blunt force trauma to the head, creating skull fragments that led to haemorrhaging in the brain.”

Jane winced. “Sounds like an awful way to die.”

“I can’t imagine there’s any violent act that’s a good way to die,” Maura said.

The detective offered a quiet agreement before saying, “Oh, and the brother was a dead end.”

“That was an unexpected segue.”

“Right,” she said, wincing again. “Sorry. He was a lovely man who didn’t like baseball. On those grounds alone, I would have suspected him. The wheelchair was hard to overlook, though. I talked to the nurse later to make sure it wasn’t fake. She looked at me like I had three eyes.”

“I would have never thought to ask,” Maura said with admiration.

Jane smirked. “That’s because you’re not trained to view every person as a suspect.”

“True,” the blonde conceded. “So what’s next?”

“Tomorrow, me and Frost are gonna talk to the other family members who are still in Boston. As for tonight,” Jane wrinkled her nose, “I need a shower before my piz… tachio chicken is done.”

“Jane! You’re having pizza!”

“There’s nothing in the fridge,” she whined. “I promise I’ll go shopping after work.”

“We’ll go shopping,” Maura corrected. “Or you’ll just substitute delivery pizza with frozen pizza.”

There was a knock at the door. “Speaking of pizza, I gotta go. I’ll tell you if I find anything interesting in the journals.”

“Okay. Good night, Jane.”

“‘Night, Maura.”

…..


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: The South Bend Blue Sox, Philip Wrigley, Bert Niehoff, and all references to the All-American Girls Baseball League are real. What I’ve done with those names, dates, and places are fictional. No offense is intended.

“Bullfinch on a Weeping Cherry” (and all its assorted titles) is a painting by Katsushika Hokusai. Have a look on Google if you’re interested in knowing what it looks like.

A huge ‘thank-you’ to RomanMachine who not only beta’s my work (and does so much more), but wrote the journal entries for Millie-Rose Ziegler.

…..

One shower, two beers, and half a pizza later, Jane set the journals on her coffee table and took the first one off the top. Sitting back in her couch, she propped her feet up, cracked open another beer, and opened the book. Jo hopped up beside her and nudged her nose under Jane’s arm. “Remind me to take the rest of that pizza to Maura tomorrow, okay? Why didn’t you tell me I ordered it half mushroom?” She received nothing in return but a gaze from soulful brown eyes. “Yeah, you’re no help. I swear sometimes, you like her more than you like me.” Taking a pull from the bottle, she began to read.

…..

…..

_February 24, 1943_

_Dearest Hank,_

_You’ve only been gone a week and already I have news for you. I got a phone call from Fred Brooks today. Do you remember him? He scouts the boys out of BCU for the professionals. His sister Gracie plays in my Sunday league. Hank, he said with so many players gone to war that they’re starting a girls’ baseball league and he wants me to try out for it. Can you believe that? I don’t know if I can believe it! The tryouts are at Wrigley Field and I know that’s a long way from home, but oh, I want to go. I’ve saved some money from the welding job, but I’ll have to quit to go to Illinois. I just keep thinking of what you would want me to do. That old busybody, Dolores, heard me telling some of the other girls about it, so all day long, it was ‘I know what my Hubert would say about it! Running off to Chicago is no way for a lady to act!’ I finally told her that not everyone ended up with an old stuffed shirt like she did! I know what you’d tell me, Hank. I know because, without baseball, we wouldn’t have each other._

_February 26, 1943_

_Dearest Hank,_

_Excuse my penmanship, but I’m on the bus to Chicago. Yes. I’m going. Mr. Brooks offered to pay for half of my ticket if I promised to pay him back when I got my first paycheck. He thinks I’m a shoo-in, Hank, but I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing, but I’m certain I’ll regret it if I don’t try. Momma was heartbroken, but she said she wanted me to be happy. Poppa gave me 35 dollars from the savings jar and told me to remember my curveball. I think they believe in me, too, Hank. I hope I don’t let them down. I hope I don’t let you down._

_February 27, 1943_

_Dearest Hank,_

_Wrigley Field isn’t Fenway, but it’s still a grand place. When you come home, I’ll show it to you. Hank, there’s hundreds of girls here, from just about everywhere. Most are around my age, but some of them are just teenagers. They seem so young to be here, but we all have our big dreams, don’t we?  Mr. Philip Wrigley was here today. He gave a lovely speech and wished us all good luck. Hank, I certainly feel that I need it. We only have two days of practice and I don’t even know what they’re looking for. There’s so many girls that I don’t know how I’m going to stand out. I just know I’ll do my best. That’s all you’d ask of me, Hank, and right now, that’s all I can do._

_February 28, 1943_

_Dearest Hank,_

_Sweetheart, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you (and that’s all right because I won’t mean it later) but right now, I hope I never see a baseball again. They had me pitching all day yesterday and my arm feels like it could fall off! Home plate is a lot closer than I’m used to and the catcher’s mitt looked as big as a peach basket! And they have us throw from a pitcher’s mound. That certainly took some getting used to, but Hank, once I did, I was whipping them in there. I remembered what Poppa said and showed off my curveball, too. They haven’t decided anything yet, but I think they had me throwing so much because they liked what they saw. Some of the managers have been talking to me already. Bert Niehoff is the manager of the team from South Bend, Indiana. They’re called the Blue Sox. He had a lot to say, Hank. Now, I’m not counting my chickens before they hatch, but, if I do get picked, I hope I play for them. It feels a little bit like Fate to me, a girl from Boston playing for the Blue Sox. But, maybe I just miss home._

_March 1, 1943_

_Dearest Hank,_

_They picked the teams today. A person from each team would step forward and call out names. If your name was called, that was your team. There were so many girls who didn’t get called. I almost think it isn’t fair because every damn one of us worked so hard out there. Those girls are going home covered in blisters and bruises and, I’ll tell you for certain, Hank, every one of them left her heart on that field. But, sweetheart, I’m not one of them. I’m not going home. My name was number four on Mr. Niehoff’s list. I’m playing for the South Bend Blue Sox. I’m playing baseball, Hank! They said our pay would be 45 dollars a week and we’ll do a week of spring training before we start the season. Momma cried and cried when I told her and when Poppa found out how much I’ll be earning, he said I better not dare send that savings money back to him! Sweetheart, I’m playing baseball and I’m so proud. Maybe I shouldn’t be, but I’m certain you would be, too, so until you come home, I’ll just be proud enough for both of us!_

….

“Hey!” Maura said with a smile. She took in the image of the detective in her doorway. “You’re in a good mood this morning.”

Jane beamed. “Those journals, Maura. They’re…” She made fists as she thought of the right word. “Amazing!”

“I’m glad,” the blonde replied. “Did they give you any leads on who might have wanted her dead?”

“No,” her smile slipped momentarily, but lifted again. “But the things she wrote about! She got into the women’s league from the start. She met Philip Wrigley. She left for Chicago to follow a dream and she made it.”

Maura stepped out from her desk and guided Jane to the couch. “I’ve never seen you so animated.”

The brunette’s eyes were wide and bright. “She was only 22 years old. I’m just… I have so much respect for her.” She slapped her thighs and stood up abruptly. “And I’m going to find the bastard that killed her.”

Maura stood up and touched her arm. “I know you will. Your determination is one of the many things I love about you.” The declaration rolled off her tongue, but neither woman responded beyond a shared look and a bemused grin. “Anyway,” she said, turning away before the flush crept any higher, “I’m glad you came to see me. I have something for you.” She reached around her desk and revealed a small bag.

“I thought you were going to get me flowers,” Jane quipped.

“I was,” Maura admitted, missing the tease under the tone. “But I was worried it might… be awkward at work.”

“Only because Frost would want some, too,” the brunette smiled.

Maura couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes, well. I got you this instead.” Jane made a motion to open it when Maura stopped her with a touch. “It won’t be awkward if you open it upstairs.”

Jane’s eyebrow twitched. “But it might be awkward if I open it here?”

“Well, no, but…”

“You want to give me a chance to see it without wondering how you want me to react,” the detective surmised. Seeing the small shrug, she asked softly, “What are we doing, Maura?”

The blonde shook her head and a gentle laugh escaped her lips. “I don’t know.”

Jane pressed hers together and nodded. “That’s good, because I don’t know either.” She bowed her head for a moment, then lifted her eyes. “But I think we should keep going until we do.”

…..

“Morning,” Jane said as she entered the bullpen.

Frost acknowledged the greeting with a lift of his head, but his expression quickly fell. “It’s not your birthday, is it?”

She made her way to her desk. “No, why?”

“The bag.”

Flopping into her chair, she said, “What? A girl can’t get gifts for no reason? Are you still single?”

“Very funny,” he replied. “No, really. What’s up with the bag?”

She shrugged. “It’s from Maura.” Seeing his eyebrow raise, she said, “It’s nothing. I mean, of course it’s something. It’s just… something… from Maura.” She frowned at her inability to formulate a sentence.

“Well, it’s nice,” Frost remarked. After the barest pause, he said, “So, you gonna open it or what? Or do you think it’s something you should open in private?”

“Why do you have to make that sound dirty? Like Maura’s gonna buy me something I can’t open here.” Despite her claim, she couldn’t help but take a peek. “I think we’re good.” Opening the bag, she pulled out a coffee mug and a bag of chocolate.

“Damn. That was anti-climactic.”

“Perv,” she shot back and smiled at the note folded inside.

How old is your cop mug? Don’t tell me. -M

“She told me…,” Jane stopped, suddenly aware that, for the first time, she was about to speak of things to someone other than Maura. She looked at Frost who looked back with simple kindness. “She wanted to get me flowers, but she thought it might embarrass me at work.” Holding up the mug, she showed him the image.

“Flowers,” he smiled. “Well played, Dr. Isles.” Tilting his head, he said, “We’ve never talked about… this. So tell me to shut up if you want.” He held up a hand. “Not yet!” he laughed. “But, why now? I mean, no offense, but you two have been dancing to this song for years.”

Leaning back, she sighed. “I don’t know, Frost. I think part of it is this case.”

He contemplated the idea. “She thinks that could have been her if she hadn’t met you.”

“Yeah,” she said, pleased at his quick insight. “The alone bit, I mean. We all know the house would be immaculately sterile.” They laughed together and she glanced down at her hands.

“Tell me,” he prodded.

She puffed out her cheeks and exhaled. “I know you said we’ve been dancing to this song for years, but it all seems new to me. And I guess I’m afraid of fucking it up. So can we keep this between you and me until I get used to it?”

“I got your back, partner,” he assured her. “Sandblasting that smile off your face is a different story altogether.”

She threw a crumpled up sticky-note at him. “Asshole.”

“Don’t you kids have work to do?”

“Korsak!” Jane smiled. “And you brought doughnuts.”

“He’s a very kind man,” Frost said.

Korsak held up the bag. “Sorry to disappoint. Whole Grain Harvest Muffin.”

The younger detectives made faces. “The physical was that good, huh?” Jane asked.

The sergeant shrugged and sat down. “High cholesterol, blood pressure could come down, you know how it is. Same as it ever was.”

“That’s too bad,” Jane sighed, popping a chocolate into her mouth. “These-” she stopped chewing and read the bag. “Goji? Are delicious.” She looked at Frost who burst out laughing.

“Anyway,” Korsak said as he tried to get them on track. “How’s the case coming along?”

Jane stood and made her way to the coffee machine. “Matt Lancaster told us about some journals the victim kept, so we went back to find them. I’ve been reading them, but I don’t think we’re going to find anything that will help us.” She brought the hot drink back to her desk. “I will say one thing- I could read those journals all day. Some of the stories she tells…I would’ve loved to have been around back then.”

“What years are we talking about?” the older man asked.

“That’s right. You weren’t here for the big reveal,” Frost remembered. “Mildred Wilson was known in the 1940’s as Millie-Rose Ziegler, professional baseball player.”

Korsak’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding! Ain’t that something? Who’s Matt Lancaster?”

The two filled him in on the developments, including the family tree, the brother and the dread of the storage unit.

“And you’re sure it’s not this Matt kid?”

“What do you think, Frost?” Jane asked her partner, who shook his head. “No, I’m pretty sure it’s not him. Nothing concrete, but my gut’s telling me it’s not him. Besides, he’s got an alibi: he emailed me his itinerary for the last two weeks.”

“Have you checked the attendance records?” He saw the look on her face and held out his hands. “Look, I get it; you wanna like this kid because he seems to be the only one who cared about the victim. But he wouldn’t be the first good person to find themselves forced into desperate measures. He’s got access to a bat like the murder weapon. He’s got experience with a short swing, and he knew the victim. By your own account, better than anyone. If there was something of value, he would be the one to know, wouldn’t he?” She couldn’t help but see the logic in his argument. “Just do yourself and the kid a favour and run a background check. Won’t take more than a few minutes.”

“I could do that, Jane,” Frost offered.

“Yeah, okay,” she replied. “But I swear, if it’s him, I’ll be bashing his head in.”

“So what else is on the agenda today?” he asked.

“What are you working on?”

He held up the muffin. “Just this,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

“We’ve got addresses for three relatives in Boston,” she told him. “A great-nephew and two nieces. Would save us some time if we split it up.”

“Sure, who do I got?”

“Matt’s mother, Cynthia Lancaster, lives in Brighton.” She scribbled out an address, crumpled it up into a ball and tossed it onto his desk.

He shook his head. “Between the chocolate and your glaring lack of activity, you’ll be lucky to pass your own physical.”

“I’m active,” she protested. “Look. I’m doing lifts.” She brought her cup to her lips and winked at Frost over the rim.

He grinned, then narrowed his eyes. With a little flick of his index finger, he pointed to her mug. She tilted the empty cup upside down and discovered a small piece of paper taped underneath. Shaking her head in amusement, she marvelled at how a simple gesture could warm her.

“You haven’t even read it yet,” Frost smirked.

She ignored him and carefully peeled off the note.

I see things differently because of you.

Korsak coughed from across the room. “I go away for a day and miss everything. You got a secret admirer?”

Both Jane and Frost smiled. “Not entirely secret,” she answered. “You gonna go talk to Cynthia Lancaster?”

He shrugged, knowing she’d tell him more when she was ready. “What are you two gonna do?”

“We’ll go talk to Julia and her son,” Frost said. “But I’ll do that background check on Matt before we go.”

“I hope I’m wrong,” Korsak said, standing.

“But you can’t be too careful,” Jane agreed. “We’ll meet back here in time for lunch? Me and Frost will stop by L’Etoile. They make a fah-bulous kale salad you’ll love,” she told him facetiously.

“Can’t wait,” the older man deadpanned.

Frost watched him leave, then immediately turned to Jane. “So, what did the note say?”

“‘Do you want to go steady after biology class? Circle Yes or No’.”

“C’mon,” he protested. “If you don’t want me to know, just say, ‘Frost, it’s currently none of your business.”

“Frost, it’s currently none of your business,” she parroted.

“See? Was that so hard? Now, I’m gonna do that check on Matt, and you’re gonna call your…,” he hesitated, unsure of the proper label. “Dr. Isles and tell her all about the huge ass smile she put on your face.”

She feigned a belly laugh before rolling her eyes. With a small wave at his monitor, she said, “Do.” A few quick keystrokes brought up ‘ _Bullfinch on Weeping Cherry_ ’ and she picked up her phone.

“You know, if everything good for me was covered in chocolate, I’d be the healthiest person on the planet.”

“It’s all part of my diabolical plan,” Maura answered, a smile in her voice.

“I don’t know if I’d call plying me with chocolate ‘diabolical’. If so, continue, Dr. Evil.” An amused silence uncurled between them, then Jane said, “You have a tendency to turn my world upside down, too.”

“You understand the painting. Did you Google it?”

The detective chose to ignore the question. “I’m not sure I understand it, but I get it.”

“Reproductions are often hung upside down.”

“Because of the bullfinch,” Jane said.

“A person’s first instinct is to turn the bird right side up. But then it would be wrong.”

Jane tossed another chocolate into her mouth. “Sounds like some kind of art double-negative.”

Maura could only laugh. “Are you interviewing the rest of the family today?”

“Yeah. Well, Korsak’s gonna interview one and me and Frost are taking the other two, since they live together.”

“Frost and I,” Maura corrected.

“Right. That, too. And maybe the warrant will be in by the time we get back.”

“Okay. Give me a call, even if it’s just to tell me you didn’t find anything.”

“Oh, I’ll be doing more than calling you,” Jane said. “I’m taking you to the storage shed. Bye, Maura.”

She hung up before she could hear the doctor’s panicked objection.

…..


	7. Chapter 7

…..

“Is this the residence of Julia Kowalski?”

An eye peered between the crack of the door and the frame. “Who wants to know?”

Jane unclipped her badge and lazily waved it. “Boston PD.”

The door closed and both detectives heard the distinct sound of a chain being unclasped. When it opened again, the uninviting image of an unwashed male in boxer shorts and a tank top greeted them. “What can I do for you, officer?” He directed his question squarely at Jane.

Barely hiding her revulsion, she corrected, “Detective. We’re here about Mildred Wilson. Do you mind if we come inside for a minute?”

He shrugged and stepped aside. “Sorry about the mess; the maid hasn’t been in today.” He smiled as if sharing a joke.

“Seems to run in the family,” Frost commented low enough that only Jane could hear.

Jane wrinkled her nose and stepped over a bag of undetermined contents. “I’m assuming you’re William Kowalski?”

“The one and only.”

She looked around, taking in the surroundings. “Your mother not around?”

“Mom’s been in the hospital for a while. Pneumonia.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jane said. “Did you know Mildred Wilson?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Mad Mildred? Yeah, the whole family knew about her.”

Bristling at the man’s tone, Jane asked, “Does the whole family know she’s dead?”

“Oh,” he replied. “I don’t know. I didn’t know. What happened?”

“I have to say, Mr. Kowalski, based on your reaction and the family history, I’m not sure that it really matters what happened.”

“What? Because I’m not cryin’ over some old biddy who drove herself and the rest of the family nuts? I’d shed a tear but I’m all out of tissue.”

“How would you ever know in all of this?” Frost asked.

“Very funny,” Kowalski shot back. “Maybe I should get your sister over here to clean up.”

“Hey. Hey! Knock it off.” Jane stepped between the two men, despite Frost laughing it off. “When’s the last time you saw her?”

“Who knows? It’s been years,” he replied. “Who could see her in that shithole?”

“Not even Christmas?”

“Nah, we save that pretend family shit for Wally.”

Jane frowned. “What do you mean ‘pretend family shit’?”

“I mean, we pretend to give a shit, but we don’t. Aunt Cynthia is big on pretense though, so she hounds us into going to visit him.”

“Did she go visit Mildred?”

“How the hell should I know?” he retorted. “I only see her at Christmas. Why don’t you ask precious Matt?”

Jane’s ears perked up. “Why?”

“He’s the one who spent so much time talking about Mildred, I thought he was gonna move in with her.”

“Maybe he just cared about her,” Frost spoke up.

Kowalski snorted. “Yeah, sure. I think he tried to get in good with her with the whole baseball thing ‘cause he thought she was worth something. Joke’s on him- she ain’t worth nothin’.”

“‘Anything’,” Frost corrected and looked around with a dismissive gaze. “And how much would you say you’re worth?” The man was silent. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Kowalski,” Jane said without an ounce of sincerity. “We’ll be in touch if we have anything further to ask.”

“Hey,” he called out as the detectives walked towards their car. “She wasn’t worth anything, was she?”

Jane spun around but Frost touched her arm. “Let’s go.”

…..

“Rizzoli,” she answered and tossed the keys to Frost.

“Detective Rizzoli? This is Matt. Matt Lancaster. Sorry to bother you.”

“No,” she said, “it’s no bother. What can I do for you, Matt?” Frost glanced over from the driver’s seat.

“I heard you were checking up on me.”

“Yeah. Just standard procedure.”

“No, no, I’m glad. That means you’re taking my aunt’s death seriously.”

“We take all deaths seriously.”

“I was just worried, you know,” he tried to explain. “I mean, she didn’ t mean anything to anyone.”

She corrected him. “Except you. And her brother.”

His voice seemed to brighten over the line. “Did you talk to Wallace?”

“Yeah. Found the one person in Boston who doesn’t like the Sox.”

He laughed. “Don’t let him kid you. He talked my ear off at Christmas about Aunt Millie and how she met Ted Williams.”

“The Ted Williams?” Jane asked incredulously.

“I know, right? I asked her about it once, but she didn’t like to talk about it. Said it sounded like bragging. But Uncle Wallace told me. She struck him out in some kind of exhibition and Ted thought it was the greatest thing. He even asked her for an autographed ball. Uncle Wallace said she told Ted she’d give him one, but only if he gave her a bat. Can you believe it? They stayed in contact right up to his death.”

“That’s incredible. I haven’t gotten to that part yet in the journals.”

“You have them? That’s great!” he enthused. “Do you think they’ll help you at all?”

She sighed. “Unfortunately, no. But we’re working on a few other leads. Do you know anything about a storage shed she had?”

His confusion was evident. “No. She never said. I mean, she told me she had stuff to give me when the time came, but I figured it was somewhere in the house, you know? I didn’t bother to ask. Besides, that wasn’t the reason I wanted to know her. Stuff didn’t matter.”

She smiled sadly. “I’m sorry, Matt. I’ll keep you posted though, okay?”

“Thanks, Detective Rizzoli.”

She ended the call and looked at Frost. “I’m beginning to think more and more we’ll find an answer in this storage shed.”

Thinking of the house, he shuddered. “I hope that’s all we find.”

…..

“Cynthia Lancaster, 66, retired,” Korsak said, writing the information down on the board. “I didn’t get much from her except the feeling she was very concerned about family image. She had photos all over the house and made sure she identified every one of them to me.”

“How’s her relationship with Matt?” Jane asked. “She must have had him when she was what? In her mid-40’s?”

“He is the baby of the family,” Korsak said. “She had his baseball trophies here and there, but couldn’t tell me why he got them. I wonder if she really got to know him.”

Frost shook his head. “This whole family is seriously out of order.”

“What did you find?” the older man asked.

“William Kowalski, 38, asshole,” Jane replied. “His mother, Julia, is in the hospital for pneumonia. We’ll follow up, but chances are, she’s not our killer.”

“What about the son?”

Jane sighed. “I don’t like him, but nothing stood out. He seemed to pay just as much attention to the victim as the rest of the family.”

Korsak nodded. “And the kid was clean?”

“Matt?” Frost asked. “Yeah. The role call has him at school for every class, and his professors vouch for him. He’s in UMass on a baseball scholarship, but he’s also getting a stipend for a research project he’s doing on robotics. Money’s tight, but he seems to be sensible with what he has.”

“So no reason to kill Mildred Wilson,” Korsak finished.

“No. Doesn’t look like it.”

The sergeant looked at the board. “Now what?”

On cue, Frost’s phone rang. After a few seconds of conversation, he hung up and turned to his colleagues. “Court officer was downstairs. Guess who has a warrant to search a scary storage locker?”

“Not me,” Korsak bowed out. “I told you last time – too many flat animals. I can’t handle it. I’ll run a background check on this Kowalski guy. Check up on his mother, too.”

Jane lightly slapped Frost’s arm. “Looks like it’s just you and me, partner.”

He grimaced. “Can we borrow some suits from Dr. Isles?”

…..

“Hey, Maura, are you busy?”

“No,” she replied. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, good. Me and… Frost and I are on our way down to pick you up. The warrant came in for the storage unit.”

Maura coughed. “You know, I just remembered. I have to… do some things. Run some tests! Yes! I have to run some tests.”

Jane smirked at the poorly veiled excuse. “Really? What kind of tests?”

“Different ones. Scientific ones.”

“Maura, I can feel the hives creeping up your neck through the phone line. Relax and breathe; I’m just teasing you. We’re already at the place. I’m just waiting for Frost to come back with the property manager.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Maura exhaled.

“Speak of the devil,” Jane said as Frost approached with a bored looking man. “Let me put you on video.”

“No, no, that’s fi-”

Her objection was too late, and Jane smiled into the camera. “Can you see me?”

“Hold on,” the doctor replied, turning on the video.

“Wow, you look great today,” Jane said.

“You’re just trying to distract me from the fact that, while I may not be there in person, you’ve still somehow managed to coerce me into showing up.”

Jane pouted. “What? I can’t say you look nice?”

Maura glanced down. “I’m in my scrubs.”

“You’re in your black scrubs,” Jane corrected. “And now, we’re going in!”

“Jane, I really don’t want to see- oh!”

The phone slowly panned around the bright white container. No one spoke for several minutes. In stark contrast to the overflow of garbage and possessions in the house, this small room was sparse and organized. The walls supported shelving units that held neatly labelled boxes. Garment bags hung on the wall to their right. A row of footlockers ran along underneath. It was nothing short of a well-kept archive.

“Holy shit,” whispered Frost.

“Are you seeing this, Maura?” Jane asked.

“I am,” she answered, “though I’m not sure I’m believing it.”

“You and me both. I’m gonna have to call you back.” She clipped the phone in its place and asked the manager, “Who has access to this?”

“No one but the key holder,” he replied. “And they have to sign in. We run a very high end storage business here.”

Frost glanced around. “Someone comes in to clean though, right? I mean, look at it.”

He shook his head. “Central heating and cooling systems get cleaned once a year. Dust doesn’t get into a room that’s air-tight and doesn’t have people walking in and out of it. You can check the logs if you want, but I don’t remember seeing anyone for years. But the bill’s been paid on time, every month.”

“Wow,” was all Jane could say. With hands on hips, she did a slow turn of the room.  ”Frost, did we ever track down Mildred Wilson’s lawyer?”

He unclipped his phone. “On it.”

“And call CSRU while you’re at it. We need to get this documented.” She pulled on some gloves and lifted the lid of the nearest box. The label read, ‘Box 8, 1944′. Inside were 12 baseballs, each encased in their own box, each carefully marked.

“Korsak’s gonna find the lawyer. The crew’s on their way. I told Fitz this was gonna be a walk in the park.” Frost watched as Jane peered around the room. “What are you looking for?”

“The box is labelled ’8′. Everything in here is labelled. I’m betting there’s a book or ledger that goes with all of it.”

Frost nodded his understanding. “Like a personal catalogue.”

“Do you know if she left a copy of contents with your office?” she asked the manager.

“Some people do as a backup,” he said. “I’ll go check.”

“Thanks,” she replied. “In the meantime, we’ll have a look.”

“This’ll be a hell of a lot easier than the house,” Frost smiled. With the manager gone, he added, “It’s like night and freakin’ day!”

“I wonder if she ever came back after her husband died?” Jane wondered sadly.

“Bingo,” Frost said. Crouching down, he pulled out a box from the bottom shelf. “Even the box with the ledgers have a label.” Jane bent over and slowly read the tags on the foot lockers. “You got a hunch?”

“Find me… Box 17, 1946 to 1947.”

He flipped the pages and ran his finger down the list. “Box 17. Bats. There’s a list of them. Should be 14 bats in the locker.”

Jane creaked open the lid and removed a black duffel bat bag. “Ted Williams came back from World War II in 1946. Left again for the Korean War in ‘52. So he had six years to meet Millie-Rose Ziegler. But when he came back and heard there was a women’s league? He loved baseball, and I’m betting one of the first things he did was see a women’s game.”

Frost’s eyes widened. “Do you really think there’s a Ted Williams bat?”

“Aw, man, she even labelled the bats!” She tilted one in his direction to show him the little piece of tape at the end.

“Bat 7,” Frost read out. “That was Elizabeth Mahon’s bat. 1946. Led the league with 72 RBIs.”

Jane carefully laid out the rest, in numerical order. “What’s wrong with this picture, Frost?”

He quietly counted out loud, then said, “One’s missing. Number 14.” He found it on the list. “Team bat, end of season. Amendment 1948- last year of original team.”

“Someone must have been traded. That bat probably meant more to her on a personal level than most of the stuff in here.”

“Jane,” Frost quietly said. “Bat number 5.”

She picked it up and inspected the barrel. “What am I looking for?” She didn’t need him to tell her, because there it was, on the other side of the curve. “Holy shit. Holy shit.” Nervously glancing at Frost, she said, “I don’t know whether to drop it or never let it go.”

“Can I hold it?” She pulled it near her chest and took a deep breath before handing it to her awestruck partner. He cradled it almost tenderly in his hands. “Ted Williams. Ted Williams held this bat, Jane!”

“The Kid.”

“The Splendid Splinter.”

“Teddy Fucking Ballgame. Last man to hit over .400 in a season. Played his entire career with the Red Sox.” Jane could barely contain her excitement. “He held that bat! My turn!”

Frost laughed and handed over the bat. “So obviously, Wallace wasn’t making up stories. Millie-Rose did meet Ted and she did get an autographed bat.”

“The thing is,” Jane explained, “the value on Ted Williams isn’t as high as you’d think. This bat probably wouldn’t get more than 2 grand from a collector.”

“But someone hears the name ‘Ted Williams’ and thinks, ‘Jackpot’,” Frost said.

“Yep. The question is, who?”

…..

They left the scene in the very capable and grateful hands of the crime techs and made their way back to the station. En route, Frost reminded her of the promise to Korsak, and after a short detour, they entered the bullpen with a handful of bags.

“L’Etoile?” Korsak said. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Okay,” Jane replied and pulled away.

His hand shot out. “Not so fast.”

“Don’t be too eager. It’s all healthy.”

Frost sat down at his desk and began to unload his bag. “Yeah, but they hide it in so much chocolate, you don’t even know it’s good for you.”

Jane’s brow lowered. “Did you get anything other than the cake?”

“Of course,” he replied. “I got the chocolate muffin, too.”

“Is that some kind of urban euphemism I don’t want to know about?” the sergeant asked.

“Eww,” Jane said. “Just, eww. Yet another reason I’m going to eat with Maura.”

Frost winked. “Like you need another reason.”

Ignoring his jest, she started towards the elevator and tossed a comment to Korsak over her shoulder. “When I come back, you can tell me all about what you found while we were gone.”

“Then we’ll tell you all about what we found!” Frost beamed.

…..


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: The story about Ted Williams is true.

…..

“And here we see the doctor in her natural environment,” Jane whispered at the door. “We must approach with caution, for she is shopping for shoes.”

Maura’s mouth twitched and she shut her laptop. “What makes you think I was shopping for shoes?”

“Your pupils dilate and you do this cute little ‘o’ with your mouth.”

“I do not!” She hesitated for a second. “Do I?”

Jane sauntered in with a smirk and placed the bags on Maura’s desk. Grabbing a nearby chair, she sat beside the doctor. “Let’s just say you won’t be playing poker with us for a while.”

“Oh, but I’d be so good at it,” she pouted. “Well, the math part.” She peeked inside each bag. “There’s a glaring lack of chocolate. What are you having?”

“Ha, ha. You’re so funny. Despite the stink-eye I got from the server, I ordered extra mayo on my skinny-lean, negative-fat, zero-taste ham that came from that one farm in Switzerland. So there.”

Maura laughed as she set out the lunch. “You showed them.”

“Yeah, I did,” Jane agreed with a proud look.

“So tell me about the storage unit,” Maura prodded once everything was in place.

“I took pictures. Look.” She leaned to the side and silently encouraged the blonde to do the same. Their shoulders pressed into each other as Jane scrolled through her gallery.

“Incredible,” Maura whispered. “It’s so clean!”

“Well yeah, that and the fact just about the entire history of women’s baseball is probably in that room.” Her finger swiped to the last picture. She turned her head slightly to see Maura’s reaction. It was then that she realized how close they were sitting, but rather than pull away, she let her eyes flick over Maura’s open profile. Long lashes dusted soft skin when she blinked, momentarily hiding hazel eyes that seemed to shift in colour. A long straight nose directed Jane’s eyes to full red lips that parted to allow the hint of a promise. When she saw them press together to suppress a smile, she quickly glanced back up. Not quickly enough. Eyes filled with mirth stared back.

“A Ted Williams signed bat,” Maura said, as if their mouths weren’t a hair’s width apart. “If it’s his bat, it will be 35 inches long and weigh 33 ounces. He was very particular about his bats.”

“Did you know anything about baseball before you met me?” Jane softly asked, not daring to break the moment.

“No.”

With a quiet chuckle, Jane said, “Continue.”

“The president of Louisville Slugger once tested him by laying out 6 bats, 5 of which were of the same weight. He then asked Ted if he could pick out the one that weighed half an ounce less.” Her eyes flicked down to Jane’s mouth. “He could.”

“Go on.”

The sincerity in Jane’s voice made Maura laugh and the spell was broken. “I’m going to have to completely re-think my pillow talk.”

Jane playfully raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean you’ve already thought about it?”

“I know,” Maura went on, as if she hadn’t heard Jane’s question,  “post-coital, I could read from those journals you like so much.”

“Mmmm, could you?” Jane hummed.

“Maybe.”

“Could you also never say ‘post-coital’ again?”

“Eat your lunch and tell me what else you found today.”

“Beyond the baseball stash that was catalogued to within an inch of its life?” She took a bite of her sandwich. “Frost and I-” she waited for the look of approval, “went to interview one of the nieces and her son. She’s in the hospital and he’s in need of a shower and a kick in the balls.”

“Jane!”

“Korsak’s running a check as we speak. He talked to Matt’s mother. Seems aloof, he said, but she didn’t ring any alarms. We’re tracking down Mildred’s lawyer to see if she had a will.”

“Maybe the person in the will knows, and they thought they’d escalate her death?”

Jane frowned. “I know, it sounds weak. I mean, no one seemed to know about the collection, so there was nothing to kill her for.”

“No one is admitting to knowing about it,” Maura corrected. “A guilty person would likely deny it, wouldn’t they?”

“Whichever way you slice it, we’re no closer to the killer than we were when we found the victim.”

“So what next?”

The brunette sighed before taking another bite. “I guess it all depends on what Korsak finds.” She looked off to the side. “We’re missing something, I can feel it. I know the crime scene is basically a write-off, but there has to be something there.”

“Why not go back to the house? Return to the scene of the crime, as it were.”

Jane nodded in agreement. “You know, that’s a great idea. We can do it first thing in the morning.” When no objection came, she quipped, “What? No emergency science tests to run?”

“I want to support you in all you do,” Maura replied, then sheepishly added, “And I’ve been told by the CSRU technicians that it’s safe now, both physically and emotionally.”

The detective couldn’t help but smile. “I appreciate your honesty. And I’ll probably take you up on your offer.” She glanced at her watch. “I should go. The crime isn’t going to solve itself, and I’m betting Frost and Korsak snuck out to get a better lunch.”

“Hey!” Maura objected. “This is a very healthy lunch.”

“Healthy, yes.” She left the rest unsaid.

“Hmph.”

Jane’s smile grew into a laugh. Depositing her garbage, she stood up and pressed her lips to Maura’s temple. “I gotta go.” She got to the door before the blonde called out her name.

A slightly flustered Maura asked, “Come over for dinner later?”

“Sure,” Jane replied. “Is it okay if I bring Jo Friday? I worry she’s gonna start recognizing Tommy more than me.”

“Of course,” she said. “Call me when you’re on your way.”

…..

_What was that about?_

_What was what about?_

_You kissed Maura._

_Please. It was a peck on the side of her head._

_You’re wishing it had been on the lips._

_No…_

_Those wonderfully soft lips where all those hot baseball stats come from._

_Yeah… I mean, how do you know they’re soft?_

_C’mon. Did you look at them?_

_Oh, yeah…_

She looked at her blurry reflection in the sheen of the elevator walls. “Stop it,” she chastised herself before changing her destination.

…..

“Hey, Ma.”

“Hey, Sweetie. Your usual?”

She slumped onto a stool. “Please.”

“Should I make Maura’s, too?”

“No, I just came from there.”

Angela seemed to note the distress in her daughter’s eyes, and when she put down the cup of coffee, she sat down as well.

“Something wrong?”

“No. I mean, not wrong in a bad way.” Angela tilted her head. “That doesn’t make sense, does it?” She looked down at the table top, as if the words could be found in the wood grain. “Do you remember when you fell in love?”

The older woman’s eyes brightened. “Sure! Paul Anka. My heart! I was 7 and I knew it would never work between us, but I couldn’t help it.”

“Ma, I’m serious.”

She rested her hand over Jane’s. “Okay. I suppose it was when I met your father. There was just something about him. He wasn’t much for words. You’re shocked, I know! But he did little things that made me feel special. He phoned the radio station and requested “Honey” especially for me.” She smiled at the memory.

“I don’t get it.”

Angela laughed. “I had it on 45 and played it all the time. He hated that song! But he learned to live with things he didn’t like and I learned to make his mama’s gnocchi, even though it’s wrong.” She pursed her lips in judgement.

Jane gave this some thought. “Is that how you knew you loved him?”

“I was a good person without your father. I had my own life, my own money, my own friends. But I became a great person with him. That’s how I knew I was in love with him.” She squeezed her hand. “Tell me what’s going on, my angel.”

The childhood endearment made her smile for a moment, then she quietly admitted, “I’m scared, Ma.”

Angela pulled back in surprise. “What in the world do you have to be scared of?”

“I’m scared… you and Pop had all this love, but now it’s gone.”

“You’re afraid to love someone because of what your father and I did? Oh, Janie.”

Her jaw clenched as she held her emotions at bay. “What if it doesn’t last?”

Angela shook her head. “But what if it does? Do you really want to live your life never knowing how great you can be?” The two women were silent for several minutes, when Angela finally said, “I should get back to work.” As she stood, she added, “You know, you never did tell me what this is about.”

Jane blew out a puff of air. “I’m just trying to figure out a few things in my head, Ma.”

“Sweetie, if we’re talking about love, what you need to figure out is your heart.”

…..


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Check wikipedia for Coulomb’s Law to get an idea of what the tattoo looks like.

**_-PLEASE NOTE THE RATING FOR THIS CHAPTER IS ‘M’._ **

…..

“Okay, Jo Friday, why don’t you go find… Bass…” The dog bolted, seemingly unaware her owner’s voice had trailed off. Slowly kicking off her boots, she made her way into the open kitchen and dropped the journals onto the island. Lights were dimmed to showcase the cluster of candles that softened the room. The dining room table was set for two.

“What’s all this?”

Maura looked up from the table, where she had been putting the finishing touches on a small flower arrangement. “Dinner,” she answered, as if it were obvious. Her eyes flicked down to the container in Jane’s hand. “What’s all that?”

“Dinner,” the brunette replied. “I mean, pizza. From last night. Dinner, last night.” She frowned at her stutter and tried again. “I somehow ended up ordering half mushroom.”

Maura smiled. “That’s so sweet.” Pulling out a chair, she said, “Sit. I’ll bring you a beer.”

She took the container and went to the fridge. Jane sat down and looked around. The number of times she had been in Maura’s house was countless, but this time seemed different.

Cocking her head to the side, she asked, “Is that… classical Led Zeppelin?”

“Yes!” Maura beamed. “It’s 4 cello players from Finland.”

Jane took the proffered beer. “There’s a glaring lack of cutlery on the table.”

Maura shrugged. “I thought that was part of the promise.”

She made a move to return to the kitchen, but Jane reached out for her wrist. “I just wasn’t expecting this.”

The smile on Maura’s face faltered slightly. “Oh. I didn’t realize.”

Jane’s hold tightened. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s… nice. The table’s nice and… and you look great.” She gestured to the navy blue dress before looking down at her own attire. “And I’m… not. I just wish you would have told me.”

“But Jane, I did. I asked you if you wanted to come over for dinner.”

“Yeah, but you said it like, ‘dinner’, instead of, you know,” she deepened her voice, “‘Dinner’.”

Maura inhaled deeply as she collected her thoughts. “I’m trying to make sure I have this right. When I say ‘Detective’, it’s often misinterpreted as sexually inviting. But, when I attempt to create a sexually inviting situation, it also gets misinterpreted.”

Jane let her head fall back and followed it with a soft groan. “It sounds stupid when you put it that way.” Her head jerked up. “Wait. ‘Sexually inviting situation’. Is that what this is?”

A red flush stained her cheeks. “Well, I thought…,” she trailed off with a self-conscious laugh. “We’d see how things go.”

“Ah, you thought you could pry me out of my pants with beer and whatever decadent meal you have planned.”

The smirk was undeniable and immediately put Maura at ease. “Yes, yes that’s exactly what I had in mind. You’re so clever.”

“Well, I am a detective, after all.”

Maura’s mouth twitched. “You certainly are. Detective.”

“That’s so not fair,” she protested. Kissing the inside of the blonde’s wrist, Jane said, “Go on. Dazzle me.”

“It was short notice,” Maura explained as she walked to the warming oven. “But Chef François didn’t disappoint. Close your eyes.”

She dutifully did as she was told and waited for further instruction. A familiar smell wafted up to her nose which caused some confusion. “Now?” she impatiently asked.

Maura chuckled and acquiesced. “Yes.”

Her eyes opened and so did her mouth. “Hot dogs,” she finally said.

The blonde crossed her arms and feigned indignance. “I think we both know they are so much more than hot dogs.”

Jane laughed at the memory of a long-forgotten claim she’d once made. “Frank’s Franks,” she corrected and made a show of reaching for her jeans.

Sitting opposite the brunette, Maura shook her head. “You’re incorrigible. As for the franks, they’re ‘loaded,’ she air-quoted, “minus the onions.”

“You are thinking ahead, aren’t you, Dr. Isles?

Rather than answer the question, she asked one of her own. “Did you find anything after you left this afternoon?”

“Julia Kowalski is in the hospital, and she’s been there for almost two weeks. The son has a string of petty felonies; some assaults, a few B&Es.” She took a bite of the hot dog and moaned in delight. “His financial history is like a who’s who of collection agencies and repo men.”

Maura’s bite was considerably smaller. “You think he’s our killer?”

“Oh, I know he is. But until we find something that puts him at the scene, it’s all circumstantial.”

“So what will you do?”

Jane shrugged. “Talk to the lab. I know Jensen sent in some hairs.”

“Which could have been transferred onto Matt’s clothing at the Christmas party.”

“Do you really think a jury would believe a hair from six months would still be on someone’s clothing?”

“I wouldn’t believe it,” Maura said, “but we’ve seen how defense lawyers can make a jury believe anything.”

The brunette blew out a breath between pursed lips. “Yeah, I know. I wonder if the crime guys dusted for prints.”

“We could always bring a small kit to the house tomorrow,” Maura suggested. “I have one in my car.”

“Of course you do,” Jane smiled. “Anyway, enough about my day. How did yours go?”

She glanced down at her plate. “Perhaps now is not the best time.”

Jane chuckled and took another bite. “Heard Crowe pulled a floater,” she said around her food. “I mean, he didn’t literally. The only thing he might pull is a hernia.”

Maura suppressed a chuckle of her own. “Twenty-eight year old male. There appeared to be a considerable amount of alcohol in his system, though I’m waiting for the toxicology report to come back.”

“Had too much to drink, went down to the harbour, tripped, fell in, drowned. Next.”

“Or,” Maura said, “he had something to drink, was coerced down to the harbour, engaged in an altercation with someone, was pushed in, drowned. Victim.”

Jane brought the beer bottle up to her lips. “Witnesses?”

“Not that Detective Crowe mentioned.”

“Then I’ve got 20 bucks that says he fell in.”

Maura shook her head. “I’ve learned from the past not to take those kinds of bets unless I’m absolutely certain. But I will let you know when I find out, how does that sound?”

Popping the last bit of the hot dog into her mouth, Jane smiled. “I’m right. You’ll see.”

Shaking her head again, Maura stood and cleared the plates. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossibly wonderful,” she corrected.

With a laugh, Maura echoed, “Impossibly wonderful. Now, would you like dessert?”

“How do you not know when you’re using that voice?”

Maura turned from the sink and leaned against the counter. “What do you mean, ‘that voice’?”

“Oh, you know,” Jane said with a nod. “It’s the ‘Detective’ voice. ‘Now, would you like dessert?’” she whispered sultrily.

“I amend my statement,” Maura replied. “You’re wonderfully impossible.”

Jane stood and walked towards her. “What kind of dessert is it?”

Avoiding the playful seductiveness in the tone, Maura answered, “Tiramisu.”

“One fork?”

“One fork.”

“Mmmm,” Jane hummed as she got closer. “I think I’ll pass.”

The surprise in the blonde’s face was evident. “Oh. Well, the game’s on, if you prefer.”

Jane stopped only when her hips bumped into Maura’s. “I don’t think I’m interested in baseball tonight.”

Maura blinked. “Just tell me, whatever you’ve done with her, she’s okay.”

It took a moment for the brunette to get the joke. “Very clever, Dr. Isles.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to watch the game?” Maura asked. “David Ortiz is on pace to get his 2000th hit tonight and he could get his 400th home run in the same game. He’d be only the sixth active player to have both, and he could very well get the hit and home run at the same at bat. He’d be the first player in major lea-”

The kiss was soft but insistent, without hesitation or regret. Two strong hands circled around Maura’s waist and pulled their bodies flush against each other. A moan escaped and Jane felt fingers curl into her dark hair. Mouths hungrily nipped at soft lips and eager tongues. Maura pulled away and raked her teeth across a dimpled chin. Breathing was short and shallow.

“Are we really doing this?” she asked between breaths.

Jane pressed her mouth into the soft skin of Maura’s throat and moaned, “God, I hope so.”

Laughter vibrated against Jane’s lips and the brunette moaned again. “No, I mean, are we really doing this here? In the kitchen?”

Jane raised her head and looked around, as if seeing her surroundings for the first time. “No,” she replied, “though I reserve the right to change my mind in the future.”

“Help me blow out the candles.”

Soon they were left with nothing but the dimness of the hallway light, and they carefully made their way up the stairs. At the top, Maura took Jane’s hand and guided her to the bedroom in silence. Jane closed the door and spoke for the first time.

“I’ve never done this before,” she hastily confessed. “I mean, of course I’ve done _this_. Sex. I’m not a virgin.” Without realization, she began to pace a small path in the carpet. “I mean, I’ve never done this before. With a woman. I don’t really count that time with Jill Burton at the Academy. I think we both had too much to drink. I mean, I haven’t done this when I was sober and willing. I mean, really _really_ willing. Because I really want to do this.”

“Jane.”

The brunette stopped and turned at the sound of her name. “Oh my God,” she whispered. At some point, during her nervous ramblings, Maura had slipped off her dress and let it pool at her feet. She now stood in nothing more than her underwear and matching bra, hands at her sides, body inviting and tempting.

“Do you think you’ll know what to do with this?”

Feet that moved of their own accord made their way to Maura. Eyes raked over her body until they met each other’s gaze, both dark and wanting. “I will figure it out or die trying.”

Maura chuckled and began to pull Jane’s shirt from her waistband. “I’m certain death won’t be necessary.”

“It’ll be a hell of a way to go,” Jane replied. Her hands went to her jeans but were stilled by the blonde.

“Let me. Please.”

In a move that was over too quickly, yet took way too long, Maura unbuttoned the jeans and peeled them down until she was on her knees and urging Jane to step out. When Jane looked down and saw hazel eyes looking up at her with a mixture of supplication and desire, she tilted her head back and let out a long moan. “God, don’t let this be a dream.”

Maura pulled down the cotton panties and kissed the inside of her thigh. “Does this feel like a dream?” She kissed the other thigh. “Does this?” She slowly stood and deftly unclasped Jane’s bra before palming a breast in her hand. “Does this?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Jane admitted, succumbing to the untethered feeling.

With a soft push, Maura directed Jane to the edge of the bed and stepped back. Hooking her thumbs under a lace elastic, she lowered the thin article of clothing to the floor and slid her hands up her body. Her eyes were locked with Jane’s, and there was a glimmer in them, almost daring the brunette to look away. Jane fought the temptation as long as it took Maura to undo her bra and let it fall to the floor. Jane didn’t speak; she could only hold out a hand in invitation. Maura accepted and let herself be pulled onto Jane’s lap, and when the women touched, skin to skin, it was almost too much. Breasts brushed against each other, nipples immediately reacting to the inadvertent stimulation and mouths blindly finding their counterpart. Maura rocked her hips forward and both women moaned at the promise.

Jane pulled back and gasped for breath. “Wait.” Maura patiently fulfilled the request, though her hands refused to remain idle. Light fingertip trails that dusted across Jane’s collarbone nearly unravelled the brunette and she closed her eyes. Then, with unexpected tenderness, she reached out and cupped Maura’s breasts. With a victorious smile, she said, “I knew it. I knew it.” She opened her eyes and saw the blonde’s unspoken question. “They fit.” She glanced down at the perfection of her hands around Maura’s breasts and said it aloud. “Perfect.”

“So you’ve spent time wondering how my breasts would fit in your hands?” Maura asked with a slight hitch in her voice.

“More time than you can imagine,” Jane confessed, eliciting a deep chuckle from the woman.

She covered Jane’s hands with hers and squeezed. “Well, now that you’ve confirmed your hypothesis,” she shakily breathed, “what are you going to test next?” The reply was a warm mouth that replaced a hand, and she arched her back into the sensation. “Yes,” she whispered, tangling a free hand into wild curls. Again, she rolled her hips forward and this time, ground down into Jane’s lap, seeking out the friction of a thigh or pelvis. When none seemed to satisfy, she whimpered in frustration and was rewarded when Jane’s hand slipped between their bodies. “Yes,” she whispered again. “Please.”

The warmth and the wetness took Jane’s breath away as her fingers charted the hidden places of Maura Isles that had only existed in her dreams. She trailed her lips from Maura’s breast up the long column of her throat and to her mouth. The blonde held her forearm, not guiding, but suggesting, and when she lifted herself up ever so slightly, Jane didn’t need to be given direction. Long slender fingers found a place that seemed like home and Maura welcomed them with a staccato sigh and closed eyes. Hands reached around Jane’s shoulders and she watched as the blonde found a rhythm that was clearly to her liking. Jane felt like she should be doing more, more with her mouth, more with her other hand, but she could only watch, mesmerized by the pleasure that played out across Maura’s face.

Her mouth moved, though few words came out beyond short moans of encouragement and sharp intakes of breath. She finally opened her eyes, cloudy with arousal, and looked right at Jane. With a shaky kiss, she silently made a vow, and Jane knew that she loved this woman. Satisfied that she was understood, Maura skimmed the back of her hand over Jane’s collarbone and down her breast, pausing long enough to give the nipple a gentle squeeze before continuing down the lean body until it touched Jane’s wrist. The brunette took this as a sign to change her position, but Maura held her firm. “Stay.”

When she felt the blonde’s fingers against the palm of her hand, she understood. “Maura.”

It was the first time she had uttered the name since they entered the room, and it was enough to send the blonde spiraling. “Yes. Yes,” she chanted, almost a sob, barely a whisper.

Jane was always one for actions in place of words, but a confession bloomed in her mind. Against Maura’s ear, she said, “I’ve always wanted to see you like this, wanted to make you feel like this.”

“You do. You do.” In an instant, her body went rigid and her mind could only formulate one word before she came apart. “Jane.”

…..

“Don’t you dare move,” came the muffled command from the crook of her neck.

Jane’s chuckle was a low rumble. “I knew it. I knew you’d be bossy in the bedroom.”

“You seem to have done a lot of thinking about this moment.” Maura raised her head. “What else did you discover you knew?”

Jane gazed into Maura. “I knew your lips would be that soft,” she said, punctuating her words with a kiss. “I knew our bodies would fit just right.” She pulled the blonde’s hips in tighter and with another kiss, she whispered, “I knew it would be perfect.”

“Hmmm,” Maura hummed against Jane’s lips. “Anything you didn’t know?”

The brunette raised her hands and softly brushed back tendrils of honey blonde hair. “I didn’t know…,” she faltered, but soldiered on, “that the little catch in your voice when you say my name… when we’re like this… would break my heart.” She saw the look in Maura’s eyes and quickly added, “No, no, in a good way. In the best way.” Her declaration was punctuated with another kiss. “And,” her voice a bit lighter, “I didn’t know you had a tattoo.”

Maura groaned but not in pleasure. “Can we leave those questions for another time?”

“What questions?” The smirk betrayed the innocent tone.

“I’ll tell you what,” Maura offered. “I can answer your questions, or,” she kissed under Jane’s jawline, “I can find other things to do with my mouth.”

“The second one please. Oh God, the second one.”

“Then lie down.”

“Bossy,” Jane whispered, but did as she was told. Her reward was the press of soft lips against her ear and a promise.

“You have no idea.”

Maura stretched Jane’s arms up against the mattress and clasped their hands together tightly as her mouth gently bit the inside of Jane’s elbow. A warm mouth trailed to the shoulder where it sucked until it left a red welt.

“Oh God, you’re a biter,” Jane moaned.

Maura smirked against her breastbone. “Did you know that, too?”

“No,” the brunette admitted, “but I couldn’t be more happy to find out.” Any further remark was stifled at the sensation of Maura’s mouth on her nipple. “Shit!”

Her hips bucked up and Maura smiled. “Patience. All in good time.”

“The time is now,” Jane whined.

Despite the protestations, Maura continued her thorough examination of Jane, from breast to sternum, along the ribcage down to the pelvic bone. By the time she lavished the hip bone with small bites and kisses, the brunette was on the verge of tears.

“Please, Maura. Please.”

“Jane. Jane, look at me.”

It seemed to take a Herculean effort to prop herself up on her elbows, but when she did, what she saw took her breath away. Maura Isles, the subject of many a fantasy and the keeper of her heart, was on her knees, between her legs. And when she saw that same look of supplication and desire she had seen earlier, it was almost too much.

“Jane?”

The question was a request, and Jane would never deny her. “Yes.”

Her back arched off the bed when she felt Maura’s lips touch her, and when she felt a tongue, she unravelled. With one hand gripping tightly into blonde hair, she grabbed Maura’s hand and brought it to her breast. A heel hooked into the smaller woman’s back, and Jane fleetingly worried about causing pain, but the thought evaporated when she felt Maura’s free hand join her mouth.

“Oh!” She arched again, using the foot on the floor to push up wantonly into Maura’s mouth. Her mouth, her fingers, her hand- what they were doing and where they were doing it became a blur as Jane came apart. “It’s… it’s too… much… it’s…” Her head pressed back into the bed and her neck strained in anticipation. “Maura.” Her voice cracked and the second syllable became a word of pleasure and release. Hands and limbs and hearts tightened at the moment, holding on for as long as possible before the much-needed descent.

Maura gently trailed kisses back up to Jane’s mouth and relished the vision of the bravest person she knew reduced to a quivering, boneless entity.

Jane tried to run her tongue over her dry lips, but gave it up for the ability to breathe. She inhaled gulps of air before attempting to speak. “You’re so proud of yourself.”

Maura smiled as she brushed back damp dark hair from Jane’s forehead. “Yes. Yes, I am.” She softly kissed the brunette. “And I’m so proud of us.”

“What took us so long, Maura?” The question was quiet and heartbreaking.

“We weren’t ready, I suppose.”

“No,” Jane disagreed. “Maybe I just didn’t realize it, but I know now: I’ve been ready for this forever.”

…..

She quietly slipped back into bed, but clearly, not quietly enough.

“What time is it?” the muffled voice from the pillow asked.

“Almost 7,” Maura whispered against Jane’s ear.

Groaning, Jane rolled over onto her back. “Where did you go?”

“The bathroom.”

“No, you were gone longer than that.”

“Fine, you caught me,” she held up her hands. “I went to La Bakeria to get us some breakfast.”

This caught Jane’s attention. “Food? You’re going to serve me breakfast in bed?”

Maura shook her head. “Not a chance. There will be no eating in this bed.”

“The events of last night would suggest otherwise,” Jane waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh God,” Maura sighed. “Is this what I have to look forward to?”

“Yes,” Jane said, and pulled the blonde in for a kiss. “Now, about that tattoo.”

Maura made a face, but knew the detective wouldn’t let it go. “It was a stupid mistake.”

“You mean, you regret getting it?”

“No,” she said. “In the end, I’m actually rather proud of it.” She propped up some pillows and leaned against the headboard. Jane dropped a pillow on Maura’s lap and contorted herself so she could lie. Once the brunette was comfortable, Maura continued. “I was in college and I thought I knew everything.”

“I bet you _did_ know everything,” Jane said.

“No, no I didn’t. And that’s what the tattoo reminds me every day.” Her fingers gently stroked through Jane’s dark hair. “I got into a conversation with a student about the inverse-square law.”

“Boy, the pick up lines you kids use in college!”

Maura playfully slapped Jane’s hand. “We were talking physics, a subject I was only taking to fulfill a course requirement. He was a teaching assistant to one of the top physicists in the country. But I knew more than he did, of course. I had been reading books since I was 3 and I took an interest in science since I was 5. How could he possibly know more than I did?”

“Ah, the hubris of youth.”

“Yes, that’s exactly it. And it was such a stupid thing.” She shook her head at the memory. “We were talking about Maxwell’s Equations, which are the four laws that form the basis of classical electrodynamics. One of them is Coulomb’s Law and one is Gauss’ Law. Because they are used to derive each other, I got the dates of their discoveries mixed up. I knew the laws, and I knew the principles behind them. But I got the dates wrong.”

Jane frowned. “So you got some old dates wrong.”

Maura smiled. “That wasn’t the point. The point was, I was so certain I was right, that I didn’t once consider I could be mistaken. The assistant suggested a friendly wager- if he was wrong, he’d sing the college fight song at the next basketball game. In the nude. He was terrified of public speaking.”

“Yeah, I can see how that would be the most terrifying thing to do out of that bet,” Jane snorted. “And he was an assistant; how did was he going to teach anyone if he couldn’t speak?”

“I suppose he thought teaching would be a kind of immersion therapy.”

“Anyway, your end of the bargain clearly was getting a tattoo.”

“Yes,” Maura answered.

Jane turned and tried to see the formula permanently inked on Maura’s right hip. “Why that one?”

“It’s Coulomb’s Law. Would you like me to describe it mathematically?”

“Why do I think it’s more complicated mathematically than this little line with two dots on it.” She brushed her fingertip over the design.

Maura smiled. “Okay. The Law states that the magnitude of the electrostatic force of interac-”

Quickly interrupting, Jane said, “At 7 in the morning, I prefer English.”

“If two charges have the same sign, the electrostatic force between them is repulsive; if they have different signs, the force between them is attractive.”

“Opposites attract,” Jane summarized.

Maura opened her mouth to clarify the simplified summary, but decided against it. “I suppose so, yes.”

“So let’s recap,” Jane said. “You thought you knew everything, found out you didn’t know one thing, lost a bet and got a tattoo.”

“But do you understand the significance of the lesson? I was certain, so certain that I was right, that I made a wager I have to live with for the rest of my life.”

Jane reached up and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind Maura’s ear. “It’s why you never guess.”

“What I was left with is a reminder, but it’s a small thing. I don’t ever want to wager something bigger unless I’m 100 percent certain.”

“You’re 100 percent certain about us?”

She gave the question some thought before answering the only way she knew how – honestly. “No,” she admitted. “I’m not sure anyone can ever be 100 percent sure about something so intangible as love. I suppose this is the exception. But I’m fairly certain.” She looked down into deep, dark eyes. “So much so, I’m wagering my heart.”

…..


	10. Chapter 10

…..

Jane hopped downstairs and stole a quick kiss and a danish. “Sorry we got so distracted that breakfast got cold.”

Maura poured coffee into a travel mug. “I suppose the distraction made up for it.”

“Which is why I have to go home and figure out how I’m going hide these,” she pointed accusingly at the small red welts on her neck.

“I made sure they’re low enough to hide under the collar of one of your many button-downs,” Maura said in defense.

Jane lifted her shirt and shook her head at the evidence all along her body. “Animal,” she tsked before moving in for another kiss. “I gotta go. Frost will be all over my Walk of Shame if I go into work like this.” She took the travel mug. “Can Jo Friday stay here? She likes you better than she likes me.”

Maura scoffed. “She likes the back yard and the birds. Yes, she can stay. Go.”

At the door, Jane jammed her feet into her boots and turned. “I meant to read you some of the journal entries.”

“Read them to me tonight.”

“Okay.”

Maura noticed the frown and asked, “What is it?”

“You did it out of order,” Jane realized. “That’s why I’m all messed up.”

“Sorry?”

“Chocolate, flowers, token, dinner, after dinner,” she lowered her voice seductively and the blonde laughed. “Where’s the token that shows me how much I mean to you?”

Maura innocently wagged her finger towards Jane’s body. “Are those not enough tokens?”

Jane pulled back in mock-surprise. “I’m offended at your answer. And oddly turned on.”

“Go!” Maura commanded with a laugh. “And call me when you want to go back to the house.”

…..

Her apartment was cool and quiet as she stepped inside. She missed the exuberant dog greeting she normally received, but smiled when she pictured Jo Friday in Maura’s back yard. Tossing the keys into the nearby bowl, she pulled off her boots and headed straight for the bathroom. She didn’t have much time, but she was going to get a shower if it killed her. The sting of the hot water was almost orgasmic and she laughed at the thought. _No, not at all orgasmic_ , she thought, the minor marks on her body reminding her of pleasures that went well beyond a hot shower. She placed her hands on the cool tile and let the rivulets of water run down her back while she marvelled at how right it all felt. The butterflies in her stomach were flutters of happiness, not panic. The tightness in her chest was a welcome embrace, not a constricting fear. She had worried so long about what would happen if they ever took the next step. In 12 short hours, Jane’s only worry was what would have happened if they hadn’t.

The water started to cool and she knew time was short. Quickly throwing on a bra and underwear, she pulled out a suit and T-shirt and soon realized Maura was right – only a collar would cover bodily evidence from curious eyes. Glancing at her watch, she threw on the shirt and the blazer, and tried to hop into the kitchen while pulling up her pants. She saw her reflection in the window and cursed. _My hair._ Back into the bathroom she went and roughly pulled a brush through her mane. She took one last look and debated about doing up one more button. _Fuck it,_ she thought. _Let them talk._

She had one more gulp of her coffee before rinsing out the mug. Patting her pockets, she did her usual check: gun, badge, handcuffs, keys. It was when she turned to head for the door that she saw it. Sitting precariously on top of an apple was a chess piece. No note, just a queen made out of marble. She recognized it immediately; it was a piece from Maura’s chess set. Puzzled, she held it in her hand, feeling the weight and coolness of the stone. _What does it mean_ , she wondered. _I’m her queen?_ She shook her head. _That can’t be it. Why would she give me a piece from her own set? Does she want me to play with her?_ Jane’s inner 12-year old couldn’t help but snort. Tossing it lightly in the air, she squeezed it and put it in her pocket, a mystery to solve another time.

…..

“Do you live here?” Jane asked her young partner.

He glanced up from his computer and tilted his chin towards her desk. “You should ask Dr. Isles the same thing.”

Jane pulled out the note that was underneath the baked good.

You ‘forgot’ this when you left. I promise, you won’t even taste the kale.

“How does she get here so fast?” Jane asked incredulously. “Seriously, I just left her hou-” She froze in mid-sentence.

Frost clapped his hands once and made double fists. “Yes!”

“Whatever,” she said, though she couldn’t hide the smile.

“Yeah,” he repeated, “whatever.” He made a show of rubbing his neck.

“Oh, God,” she groaned and lowered her forehead to her desk.

“Are you kidding me?” Frost asked. “If all that,” he pointed at her throat, “was me and it was because of Dr. Isles, I’d be running through the station yelling ‘Fuck all y’all!’”

The two burst out laughing and Jane let a snort escape. “Stop! Just… stop.” She inhaled a deep breath and said, “Thanks, partner.”

Wiping a tear from his eye, he asked, “Thanks for what?”

“Just, I dunno, just for being so patient about the whole thing and not giving me a hard time while I figured things out.”

“No problem. But I can give you a hard time now, right?”

She sighed. “I expect nothing less.” Touching her neck, she asked, “Is it really noticeable?”

“Nah, not really,” he admitted. “But you might want to do up another button, if you’re worried about people saying shit.” She didn’t move and he nodded his approval. “Damn right. Now eat your muffin.” Her face went beet red and he laughed again. “That thing on your desk. And you call me a perv!”

…..

“You’ve been staring at that thing for the last half hour,” Frost said. “What is it?”

Jane was slumped forward with her chin in one hand and the phone in the other. “I’ve also been on hold with the RMV for the last half hour. It’s a chess piece.”

Frost nodded. “The queen. I get that. What I don’t get is, what’s it mean?”

“Maura gave it to me.”

“No note this time? You checked underneath?”

“Frost, the base is the size of a quarter. She’s not gonna write the world’s tiniest note and tape it to the bottom of a chess piece.” She held his gaze for a full 10 seconds before lifting the piece and checking. She showed him the bottom.

He held up his hands. “Hey, didn’t hurt to check, did it?”

“What else have you been doing besides looking at me looking at a chess piece?”

“I’m on the same train of thought you are – checking to see if there were street cameras anywhere close to the vic’s house that might have caught something in the last week.”

“Any luck?”

“There’s one at the very end of her street. Gives a decent view of her house. Good thing is, it’s an open-ended street, so only two ways in or out. And most of the time, if someone parks on the street, when they get back in the car, they normally drive in that direction.”

“So even if they didn’t pass the camera pulling up to her house, they’ll pass it driving away. Good thinking, Frost.”

“By the time you get through to someone, I might have some numbers to pass along.”

“Yeah, no kidding. I just want to know if William Kowalski’s ever had a car registered under his name. You’d think I was trying to get playoff tickets.” She grabbed the chess piece and sat back. “I don’t get it.”

“The long wait or the queen?” Frost asked.

Before she had a chance to answer, someone finally picked up. “Registry of Motor Vehicles.”

After another 30 minutes, Jane hung up and looked at her note pad. “Do we have access to the RMV database? Because she gave me almost the exact same information Korsak got when he did his background check.”

“Pretty much,” he told her. “Except they can go farther back in the registry. We can only access the current vehicle and the one before that. She gave you nothing?”

“Not exactly,” she said with a broad grin. “I wish I could have fast-forwarded to the last five minutes of that conversation.” She held up her notes. “William Kowalski has never owned a vehicle.”

“Which we already knew.”

“Yes, but Julia Kowalski has owned several in her life. A 1977 Ford Granada was three cars ago.”

Frost nodded. “Which is why it wouldn’t have come up in our search.”

“Exactly. And how much do you want to bet Mr. Kowalski is driving that around unregistered?”

“Oh, no,” Frost waved his hands. “I’ve learned my lesson when it comes to taking bets with you around.” He held out his hand for the piece of paper. “Give me the numbers and I’ll keep my eye out for it. I heard you might want to go back to the house and see what you missed.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Where did you hear that?”

“Jensen came up yesterday to drop off some photos of the place now that it’s clean. Said it made Dr. Isles’ day when she mentioned she might want to go back in and he showed her the photos. And as we’ve seen today, what Dr. Isles wants is often what Detective Rizzoli wants.”

“You. Are. An. Asshole.” She pointed her finger at him, punctuating every word, but her stern voice didn’t stop him from giggling like a 5-year old. Standing, she grabbed her jacket. “Whatever. I’ve got things to do.”

“And someone to do them with,” Frost choked out.

She fought the smile that threatened to spread across her face. “Asshole.”

…..

“You’re right,” she said as she entered the office. “That muffin didn’t taste like kale at all.”

Maura tilted her head to the side. “Remind me to talk to Detective Frost about current euphemisms.”

Jane sauntered in and dropped into the nearest chair. “Hey,” she declared, patting the sides, “I can almost stand this one!”

“Very funny. Were you here on a mission or just to criticize my furniture?”

She adjusted her position and hung a leg over the armrest. “I wondered if you were free to go check the house? Or are you elbows deep in a case?”

“I’m just signing off on some paperwork,” Maura replied, “but I can certainly make the time.”

“Great,” she said, standing. “Frost is working on some video footage to see if we can catch this guy on a street camera. He’ll expedite a warrant if we get a match on the plates.”

“Give me two seconds and I’ll be ready to go.” She signed off on her last report and straightened her desk. Papers were neatly filed in the drawer and the pen carefully capped before finding a home in a wire cup. With everything to her liking, she stood and collected her purse. When she saw Jane’s amused grin, she asked, “What?”

“Nothing,” the brunette smiled. “You ready?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going in your Louboutins?”

Maura’s eyes widened in delight. “How did you know they were Louboutins?”

Jane held the door open and leaned into the blonde. “Have I ever told you how amazing your legs look in those heels?” Fortunately, her reflexes were quick enough to catch Maura’s slight stumble. As if it never happened, she said, “Besides, they have red soles. I do pay attention to some of the things you say to me, you know.”

Maura covered her fluster by handing Jane the keys. “Would you like to drive today?”

Now it was Jane’s eyes that danced. “The Mercedes?”

“The Prius.”

“Oh.”

…..


	11. Chapter 11

…..

Aside from the deep tire tracks left by the junk removal team, the outside of the house was just as immaculate as the first time they saw it. The two women approached the door, but in anticipation this time, rather than trepidation. Jane turned the handle and they walked into the empty house.

It literally was empty. Not a stick of furniture nor a scrap of garbage was left behind. And, just as Jane had noted the last time she’d been there, once nothing remained, it seemed cavernous. White squares gleamed on walls where pictures had once hung, only to be hidden by mountains of debris. Wooden floors showed similar voids where heavy objects must have stood for decades while the areas around it rotted away.

Maura raised a gloved hand to her nose. “What’s that smell?”

“I think it’s just decay,” Jane said.

The blonde looked around, seeing it all for the first time. “I can’t believe this is the same house. What do you think will happen to it now?”

Jane pointed to some rotted areas in the floor. “They’ll have to get someone to check the foundation, make sure the rot doesn’t go all the way through. Rip out the floors. Gut out the walls. Probably get an exterminator in here for mice.” She shook her head. “It might just be better to tear it all down and start again.”

“That’s kind of sad, don’t you think?”

“I think the whole thing is sad.” Reaching out, she took Maura’s hand. “C’mon, I can take you to the kitchen now without you falling on top of me.”

Maura followed behind and said, “If I’m not mistaken, it was you who fell for me.”

“Is that really the lie you want to tell our grandchildren?” The blonde stopped abruptly. She opened her mouth to object, but no words were forthcoming. Jane could only smile. “The kitchen?”

They entered the room and stood in the centre, slowly circling the area. If anything, with the exception of the fingerprint dust, it was even cleaner than it was the last time Jane saw it. She nodded her head in approval.

“The guys did a great job,” she said.

“They dusted the front door as well,” Maura noted.

“Couldn’t have come up with anything. Kowalski’s prints are on file.” Jane put her hands on her hips. “What are we not seeing?” She looked off to the side and tried to reconstruct the moment. “So the killer comes in, presumably through the front door.”

“He’s let in, which is why there’s no prints.”

“Right,” she said, pointing at Maura. “No prints going out, because he’s realized what he’s done and he’s at least smart enough to know not to touch anything.”

Maura nodded. “Which is why he must have taken the bat.”

Jane continued her reenactment. “He makes his way through the mess- she’s made a small path or something. They get here, in the kitchen, because it was the cleanest room.”

“That’s a generous definition.”

Jane acquiesced with a bend of her head. “It had two chairs and a TV. And Matt knew the journals were here, so this had to be the place she saw people. So they come in, they start talking. Maybe it’s all ‘how’s the weather’ at first, but then the topic starts to shift.” Jane began to pace, oblivious to Maura’s admiring gaze. “He’s found out about the Ted Williams bat. Asks her about it. She either flat out denies it because she doesn’t think he has a right to know, or she shrugs it off because she’s never felt it was that important to her.” She softly punched her palm as she warmed up to the scenario. “He wants it, or he wants something else, thinking if she’s got that bat, she’s gotta have more, right? She says ‘no’, he doesn’t believe her.”

Jane abruptly stopped and began sweeping the room with her eyes. When they fell on something she knew, she nodded and smiled at the discovery. “In all that mess, I didn’t recognize it at first.”

Maura frowned and followed Jane’s gaze. She tilted her head as she tried to place the item in a more familiar setting. Jane watched as the wheels turned. At last, the blonde said, “It’s a bat holder.”

“That’s my girl,” Jane replied. “At first, I thought they were just hooks. But you can see that one is bigger than the other.”

“To hold the barrel. You have a set for your Nomar Garciaparra bat.”

“Hell yeah, I do.” She picked up her train of thought again. “She tells him she doesn’t have anything of value, he looks up and sees the bat. Thinks she’s lying.” She snapped her fingers. “It’s #14, Maura.” Seeing the blonde’s patient expression, Jane explained, “You saw the storage unit. Millie-Rose had everything catalogued. I mean, everything. Right down to numbering balls and bats and photos. She had a footlocker of bats from 1947. Number 14 was missing. That was the last year they were all together as a team.”

“Okay, but what would make him think it had any value?”

“She had it autographed by the entire team. Maybe he thought it was worth something.”

Maura’s mouth opened slightly. “Ah. That would explain the presence of the ethylene glycol monobutyl ether. It’s ink.”

“So,” she walked over to the holder. “He sees the bat, accuses her of lying, they argue, he grabs the bat,” she mimics the motion, “hits her with it, and takes the only thing he thinks is worth anything.”

“I think it’s a plausible theory,” Maura agreed. “But we still don’t have any physical evidence that puts him in the house, let alone in that situation.”

The two women stood in silence for several minutes. Jane wiped her arm across her forehead. “I don’t know, Maura.”

“Maybe in looking for what we think should be here, we’re forgetting what was here.”

Rather than ask her what she meant, Jane watched the doctor walk over to the wall.

“Pretend to grab for the bat,” Maura directed.

Jane took four steps to stand beside her. Reaching up slightly, she grabbed for an imaginary weapon.

“But remember what the room must have been like when William Kowalski was here,” she reminded the detective. She touched Jane’s forearm and gently repositioned her about three feet back from the wall.

“He would have had to stretch over a pile of garbage,” Jane said, suddenly realizing the point of the pantomime. As she attempted to reach the bat again, her weight shifted forward and her hand automatically touched the wall for support.

Maura silently unpacked her fingerprinting kit and brought the squirrel haired brush and soot powder to the wall. Jane stepped back and watched in admiration. There was something compelling about watching the doctor go about her work, something attractive about the confidence. Jane couldn’t help but lean over and murmur, “I might have to get you to dust me for prints sometime.”

Without even looking away, Maura replied, “Why? The only fingerprints that should be on you are mine.”

Jane bumped her hip into Maura’s. “Oooh, jealous already?”

“I’ve been jealous for years. Now, may I finish my job?”

She nudged her with a shoulder. “Please don’t let me get in your way.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Maura said. Slowly but surely, amongst the black powder, a hand print emerged.

“I’ve got you, you fucker!” Jane said victoriously. Holding up her phone, she took several pictures at varying distances and sent them off to her partner. “Frost, did you get them?” she asked, foregoing the usual greetings.

“You know, if you had a tablet, you could run them through the database yourself,” he replied.

“Yeah, but then what would I need you for?”

Frost snorted. “Clearly, I’m the brains of this operation, Brawny. And yes, I got them. They’re running through the system as we speak.”

“How did the street cams go?”

“Tell me I’m the brains.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she complied, “you’re the brains. You got something.”

His laugh could be heard down the line. “I asked the D.A. to expedite a search warrant for the garage of William Kowalski in order to determine whether or not he’s in possession of a 1977 Ford Granada. Based on the camera footage and the info from the RMV, the D.A. figures the court clerk will drop off a warrant within the hour.”

Jane clenched a tight fist. “Yes. Great job, Frost. And if those fingerprints come through-” She heard a soft bell in the background and Frost’s exuberant shout. With another pump of her fist she said, “I’m on my way to Kowalski’s. Meet me there when you get the warrant.”

“Will do.”

She clipped the phone to her belt and pulled Maura in for an unexpected kiss. The blonde let her hands roam as the detective molded their bodies together.

Slightly breathless, Maura pulled back just far enough to ask, “What was that for?”

Savouring the warmth of the woman’s body and her breath, Jane barely moved, and when she spoke, their lips grazed. “We got him, Maura.”

“Would it be selfish of me to hope you solve all of your cases? Of course, I want to see you succeed on a professional lev-”

The second kiss was quicker, but no less heartfelt. “I’ll do my best to make sure I solve every case, and with only you around.”

Maura nodded approvingly. “I think that’s fair.”

Jane took a moment to gaze openly at the woman. She opened her mouth to speak, and clearly had something to reveal. Instead, she gave her head a small shake and smiled. “Let’s go catch this bastard.”

…..

They pulled up down the street from William Kowalski’s house, and Jane put the Prius in park.

“You stay here; I’m just going to go for a little walk.” Maura reached for the handle and made a motion to open the door. “What are you doing?” Jane asked.

“Going for ‘a little walk’,” she told her. “Because I know that’s Jane Code for ‘I’m going to walk up to the door, attempt to intimidate the suspect without back-up even though my partner is most likely less than 10 minutes away, and perhaps put myself in an unnecessarily dangerous position while my… girlfriend watches helplessly from the car’.”

As she was prone to do, the brunette attempted to deflect the moment with humour. “I’m glad it’s not Morse Code. That would take forever.” It didn’t stop Maura from opening the door.

“Okay, okay, close the door, we’ll wait for Frost.” This seemed to appease the doctor, and the door clicked shut. Killing time, Jane took in the small, economical surroundings of the car and sighed. “Please, please never let me be seen in this car again,” she begged. “I feel like I’m sitting in a clown car.”

“The Prius has one of the largest interior spaces for a car of its size,” Maura objected.

“I wasn’t referring to the size. You can’t tell me this car is sexier than the Mercedes. Besides,” she innocently glanced out the window, “I saw the brochure for the new S-Class on your desk last week, so you can’t deny it.”

“Hmmm,” she mused. “It does have the quietest interior on the market.”

“All the better to listen to your Yo-Yo Ma.”

“I know you know I don’t listen to Yo-Yo Ma in the car, so I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that.”

“Yet here you are talking about it.”

Her glare had no impact on Jane’s playful expression. “Anyway,” she waved away the comment, “I would have to assess certain additions to the vehicle before I made any decision to buy.”

“It’s an amazing car. It’s not a Prius. What other decisions do you have to make?” She watched as Maura’s eyes blatantly roamed over her from head to toe. “Oh my God,” she whispered in disbelief. “You’re thinking about having sex in the car!”

“No! Well, not this car. This is much too pedestrian for that kind of activity. And not ‘sex’ per se. More, how sexy you might look in the car, which would then most likely lead to sex. Perhaps in the car. But not necessarily. Oh, look! Detective Frost is here!”

Jane reached for the handle but not before saying, “You’ll stay here now, right?”

“Yes,” she promised.

The brunette nodded and stepped out of the car. Leaning back in, she said, “And don’t think I don’t know what you did there. With the distraction.”

Maura feigned innocence. “Was it a distraction? I thought we were having a simple conversation about choosing my next vehicle.”

“Right. Anyway. I get it. The Jane Code thing. And you’re right, so…”

“So… Frost is waiting,” Maura said. “Go get the bad guy.”

…..


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: As always with my stories, the A story (which is the crime) ends up actually being the B story, because I use them to propel character development. Although I’ve gone outside the boundaries set by the show, I hope I’ve been able to keep the characters as “Jane” and “Maura”. My goal is always to blend show canon and develop my own, while making it all as seamless as possible. I hope I’ve succeeded here.

…..

Frost was leaning against his car when Jane sidled up beside him. “Got it?” He waved the piece of paper. “Then what are we waiting for?”

The walk up to the house was a determined one, capped off by Jane’s insistent knock.

“Who is it?” came a voice from the other side.

Jane silently motioned for Frost to go around the back. She counted to ten before answering. “Boston PD, Mr. Kowalski. We’ve already talked.”

“Then I ain’t got nothin’ to say.”

There was a sound of rustling, a door slamming, and the painfully distinct sound of bodies hitting the ground.

“Frost!” she shouted before racing around the corner. What she saw made her stop and laugh. “Hold on, Frost. Lemme get my phone.”

“This is police brutality!”

Frost looked down at the body pinned to the ground. “Please. The only brutality here is what your stench is doing to my suit. Damn, man. I just got this dry-cleaned.”

“Get up, Mr. Kowalski,” Jane ordered, and Frost helped him to his feet with a sharp pull of the handcuffs.

“I wanna talk to my lawyer.”

“And you can do that at the station,” she assured him. “But first, we have a warrant to search your garage.”

Frost flashed a smile and the warrant. Pulling a lawn chair closer, he pushed the man down. “Take a load off. Don’t go anywhere.”

Jane snapped on some gloves and lifted the garage door. She saw the car immediately. “Well that was easy.” Her eyes roamed from left to right as she prowled the small room. “Check every inch, Frost.”

The partners silently found a rhythm, meticulously lifting sheets, cracking open cabinets, and checking behind the larger items. Dust filled the air and Frost waved it away. Jane held her arm to her nose and did the same.

“I know it’s here, Frost. I know it.”

“I’ll tear the place apart if you want me to, Jane.”

“I know you will.” She sighed and glanced around one more time. “I guess the glory will have to go to CSRU.”

“Fuck that,” Frost said. “If you say it’s here, it’s here. We’re not leaving until we find it.”

Jane watched as the young man began pulling at bags and tearing open boxes. “Frost, a bat’s not gonna fit in-” but he kept on, uncaring of the mess he was creating behind him. Hefting a fallen punching bag out of the way, he made a path to a mattress and pushed it to the side, through garbage and junk. She marvelled at his tenacity.

“Jane!” he exhaled, body bent and dirty. He stepped aside and she saw the garbage can pressed into the corner. “How he got his fat ass over here, I’ll never know.”

She barely heard his words amid the blood rushing to her ears. The can was bent and battered, and the lid barely fit. Sticking out to the side was clearly the knob of a baseball bat. “You get it, Frost,” she offered. “You earned it.”

He took a few photos then tossed the lid to the side. With care that was contrary to the very search that lead him there, he removed the bat from the garbage and pointed it at Jane.

“Number 14,” she whispered. She helped him over the pile he created, then swiftly exited the garage.

“Jane!”

Though she heard the alarm in his voice, she didn’t slow down until she was standing in front of Kowalski. Reaching behind her, she snapped her fingers and gestured for Frost to give her the bat.

“Jane…,” he gently warned, but handed it over.

She tilted it in the sunlight until she saw exactly where the sliver was missing. “Do you see this bit here?” she asked, her voice eerily calm. “That’s the bit that stuck in Mildred Wilson’s head after you bashed it in.”

“I’m not say-”

“That’s right,” she hissed between gritted teeth, “you’re not saying anything. In fact, I’d advise you to keep your mouth shut, you piece of shit.” She held the end of the barrel under his nose. “See that number? This bat was part of a collection. Part of a huge fucking collection of a woman’s life you had no problem ending. What? Because she was old? Because you wanted something but she wouldn’t give it to you? Because you thought you could just take it?” She stepped back. “Believe me, I know how easy it is to take a life. It can happen in the blink of an eye. But I know the value of life, too, and that’s something you didn’t give a shit about, did you? The only value you saw in her was money, and when you thought she didn’t have it, she was worthless. Like the garbage we found this in.” She held up the bat. “But even then, you couldn’t just throw it away, could you? You had to keep it. Just in case.”

She seemed to run out of steam and Frost stepped in. Pulling the suspect to his feet, he pushed him towards the front of the house as he read him his rights.

“I’ll ride back with you,” she told him, handing him the bat and pulling the gloves from her hands with an audible snap. “I just gotta tell Maura.”

“I’m here, Jane.”

She spun and saw her standing at the corner of the house, a vision of calm in a turbulent sea of emotions. Light seemed to touch her hair in all the right places, and the hem of the dress fluttered slightly in the breeze. But it was the eyes that captured her, hazel invitations that offered nothing but comfort. Jane wanted to say all these things and more, but the first thing out of her mouth was a soft accusation.

“You promised to stay in the car.”

Maura blinked. The words were obviously a surprise to her as well. “You were taking a long time. I was starting to worry.”

Jane walked up and reached for her hands. “So it’s not okay for an officer of the law, trained and in possession of a firearm, to go in without backup, but it’s perfectly fine for you to do it?”

She conceded the point with a small downturn of her mouth. “I suppose I thought you were my backup.”

Jane wrapped her arms around the smaller woman and revelled in quiet perfection. “I will always be your backup.” She pulled back and apologized. “I’m sorry if you saw any of that. Not my finest hour.”

Maura framed Jane’s face with her hands. “Don’t ever be sorry for being passionate about your job. I know this case meant a little more to you.” She thought about the events of the last few days and smiled. “I think it meant more to me, too.” She left a light kiss on the brunette’s lips then said, “Safety protocol dictates that an officer of the law cannot transport a suspect without the presence of another officer. So you’d better go.”

“I love it when you get all Policeman’s Handbook on me.” Jane reluctantly stepped back. “Can I stop by later?”

“You know you can. And you may.”

“If I don’t get anything else out of this relationship, I know my grammar will improve.”

“Oh, I plan on offering so much more. Detective.”

“And I’m the one who’s incorrigible.”

…..

“She’s like the Coffee Fairy, I swear!” Frost laughed when they stepped into the bullpen. Sure enough, placed directly in the middle of their desks was a steaming cup of coffee. “How come I didn’t get a little note with mine?” he pouted.

“Because she writes them all in Latin,” Jane said, cradling the cup up to her nose. “God, this smells delicious.”

Frost made a face. “How do you know I don’t understand Latin?

“Sicut patribus sit deus nobis.”

“I didn’t say I understood Latin; I just wanted to know how you knew I didn’t.” Pointing towards the note, he asked, “Did she really write that?”

Jane held his gaze for several seconds before waving her badge. “‘God be with us as He was with our fathers’.” She quickly dispelled his look of amazement. “It’s on the badge, Frost.”

He blew a snort of breath between his lips. “I knew that. I was just testing you.”

Her phone buzzed, interrupting her retort. “Rizzoli.”

“Detective Rizzoli. It’s Matt Lancaster again.”

Jane sat down. “How did you find out?”

Matt paused. “Uh, find out what?”

“Wait,” she backtracked, “why are you calling?”

“Millie’s lawyer found me. I’m not sure I believe it, but he said she left me everything,” he said incredulously.

“You know, it’s more than just the house.”

“I know. It’s… the lawyer emailed me the list. I know about the storage shed.”

Jane smiled wistfully. “It’s amazing, Matt.”

“Once things settle down a bit, I think I’m going to call someone from Cooperstown. I’d like them to have it,” he told her.

“You’re donating it?” she asked.

“I’ll probably keep a couple of things; ask Uncle Wally if there’s anything he wants. But if it’s even half as amazing as I think it is, people need to see it.”

“She must have been very proud of you,” Jane said.

“Hey,” he said, returning to the start of their conversation. “Why did you think I was calling?”

“We got him, Matt,” she answered proudly.

“What? Who?”

“We got a suspect in custody. I’m sorry to tell you it’s your cousin, William.”

“Wait.” He was silent for a moment, then asked, “Aunt Julia’s son? Bill?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, God,” Matt said, “it’s because I wouldn’t shut up about the Ted Williams bat, isn’t it? He thought she had it in the house and wouldn’t give it to him.”

“Listen,” Jane replied firmly, “you are not responsible for anything he might have done. He can’t use your words to excuse what he did. And I don’t want you to feel guilty about anything, okay?” When he didn’t answer straight away, she repeated, “Okay?”

Finally, he replied, “Okay.”

“Good. Why don’t you give me a call the next time you get into Boston? I’ll let you know more about the case and give back those journals.”

“You know… I think you should keep them.”

“What? No, Matt. They belonged to her and now they belong to you.”

He seemed to give the matter some thought. “Are you finished reading them?”

“God, no,” she replied, her laugh rolling down the line. “I haven’t even got to the Ted Williams part!”

“Then let’s compromise- you hold onto them until you finished reading them. Then decide if you want to keep them.”

“Don’t you want them?” she asked, puzzled. “They must have some great memories for you.”

“Sure. But they’re all up here. In my head. And hey, if I ever want to re-read them, I know where they are.” His voice softened. “And I think she would have wanted you to know the stories, too.”

“Matt, I… thank you,” she said warmly.

“Nah,” he replied. “Thank Millie-Rose.”

…..

The scene was familiar, yet entirely different all at once. Closing the door with hardly a sound, she stood and watched Maura in the kitchen. She was chopping something green, and her fingers moved in careful synchronized time with the knife. Her apron was so pristine Jane wondered why she bothered wearing it. A pot boiled on the stove and the voices of Red Sox commentators drifted in from the television. Bass’ soft ‘thump thump’ as he strolled by made her look down and smile. She leaned against the door, eyes closed, revelling in the moment. When she opened them again, she couldn’t hold the words back.

“I love you.”

Maura’s head jerked up and the knife stopped in mid-cut. “What did you say?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” Jane mock-pleaded, kicking off her boots. “You know I’m not good at it, especially when you’re looking at me like…like that. Like a kid on Christmas Eve, with your puppy-dog eyes.”

Maura wiped her hands on a dish towel and walked around the counter towards Jane. Without hesitation, she reached for the front of the taller woman’s jacket and pulled her into a kiss. Firm, yet entreating. Giving, yet taking.

“Mmmm,” Jane approved, bringing their hips together. “Maybe later, you can unwrap me.”

She shook her head in the crook of Jane’s neck. “That was horrible.”

“But you love me,” she smirked.

Leaving a trail of kisses along the brunette’s jaw, she whispered, “I do love you.”

They held each other’s gaze until Jane felt her cheeks burn. “Anyway, whatever you’re cooking smells amazing.”

Smiling, Maura said, “It’s just soup, but it’s not ready. Why don’t you take off your jacket? I recorded the game from last night, so you can watch it while I get the rest of dinner together.”

“You recorded last night’s game? That was awfully presumptuous of you, Dr. Isles.”

“Well,” Maura stammered, “it was an important game. And I thought…perhaps you’d like a copy for posterity. In the event David Ortiz set the record.”

Jane’s mouth twitched. “I have red marks on my neck because my girlfriend is orally fixated.” She pressed her finger to Maura’s lips when she tried to protest. “You have red marks on your neck because you’re going all vasovagal. Just admit it; you planned ahead.”

Try as she might, she couldn’t deny it. “Fine. I planned ahead.”

“See, was that so hard?” She left a kiss on the tip of her nose. “How long’s dinner?”

“Oh, another 30 minutes or so? I just have to put it all together.”

She turned Maura around and shuffled them into the kitchen. “Why don’t you do that, I’ll grab a beer, and you can come sit with me on the couch and watch Big Papi make history. Or not.”

“Have you really been able to avoid knowing the outcome?” Maura asked as she scooped the chopped vegetables into the pot.

Jane popped the cap off her beer. “Not intentionally. But the case kept me from hearing about it. Sit.”

When the blonde sat beside her, Jane shook her head. “Closer.” Maura scooted tightly against her. “Closer.”

“Jane, I’ll be on your lap. What if your mother comes in?”

She shrugged and pulled the doctor to her. “Considering the position she caught me and Jill Burton in, she probably won’t mind.” Maura’s sharp intake of breath, then her laughter, filled the room. Jane put down her beer bottle and paused the TV. “Now that I have you,” she said, tightening her arms around the slender waist, “I have to ask. The chess piece. I tried and tried to figure it out. Even Frost gave it a shot. But I gotta tell you – I don’t get it.”

Maura wound her arms around Jane’s shoulders and rested pressed her lips to her temple. “While some might say the king, what’s the most important piece on the board?”

“The queen.”

“Yes,” Maura said. “Other pieces do an adequate job. Some more than others. But what’s the first thing you try to do if you lose the queen?”

“Get a pawn promoted,” Jane replied.

“Because it’s hard to play chess without the queen. It can be done, but when all other pieces are gone and only the queen and king remain, you can still checkmate an opponent.”

“You can still checkmate an opponent if you have a rook and a king,” Jane informed her.

She poked the brunette in the ribs. “You’re ruining my analogy. I suppose what I want you to know is, you’re the most important piece in my life.”

“Oh my God,” Jane said, turning her head before her eyes gave her away. “You are the most romantic person I’ve ever met. And I have to compete with that? Now I have to buy flowers and organic chocolate and wine that comes from a 300-year old cellar in France and recite sonn-”

Maura’s kiss made short work of her litany of complaints.

-fin.


End file.
